#another fun fact: the voice was supposed to be the Entity but as read through it i think itd be cooler if the voice was Grin herself

[bow-and-aro-child]

TW:BLOOD, BODY HORROR

Ough, the height extension did not do my boy Sunni any favors. Who knew possession could be so painful?/silly

This is one of my newer SMG4 OCS, Sunflower Guy, aka Sunni. Damn, and this is how I introduce them? Sorry, my guy; I'll introduce ya properly sometime (that doesn't end up with them possessed. Maybe…)

Anyway, throwing my entry in the ring for @grinnames 200+ follower event. Congrats, man, you deserve it!! Not only did I draw PossessedGB4!Sunni, I also wrote about how it happened. I'm slightly rusty at writing, but I hope you like it. Now, ONTO THE STORY!!!

AID GONE WRONG 

Summary: Attempting to help a friend in need goes very wrong for Sunflower Guy.

-----------------

The sun was setting as another day ended at Luigi's flower shop. Inside, a lone Shy Guy was putting away supplies, quickly dashing to and fro around the shop as they did.

'Pesticides go here; fertilizers go here, make sure its actually fertilizer and not gunpowder; don’t wanna deal with that again; heliotrope seeds go here-'

Their thoughts are soon interrupted as the bell dings, signaling a customer’s arrival. Sunni’s head turns towards the door, finding, to their confusion, no customer.

Weird.

Sunni cocks their head briefly before shaking their head and picking up a flowerpot, resuming their duties. They barely take a step toward the back before the bell rings again. Their head whips toward the door, a wave of irritation washing through them as, again, no sign of a customer.

Sunni sighs, gently placing the flowerpot on the counter, then quickly walking outside and pacing around the storefront a few times.

Empty.

Sunni grumbles under their breath and is about to turn on his heel and head back inside when he hears rustling from behind the building. The Shy Guy freezes up as the rustling continues briefly before stopping entirely.

Sunni’s mind runs rampant with different scenarios, ranging from something as innocent as a wild animal snuffling through the trash to more violent and scary thoughts.

The sound of a groan snaps them out of their thoughts. Their feet move before they realize it, and as they turn the corner, their eyes land on a familiar blue hat among a pile of discarded boxes.

Sunni makes a surprised sound as they dash toward SMG4. A surge of worry and concern overtakes them as they quickly reach him, grabbing his hand as they try to pull him out of the pile.

As soon as they make contact with SMG4’s hand, a wave of fear and anxiety washes over them, keeping their legs stuck and preventing them from running. SMG4 slowly stands up, towering (far taller than he should've) over the Shy Guy, his lips pulling back in a dark smile as he keeps his grip on them.

All too late, Sunni comes to a horrific realization.

‘This isn’t SMG4. This… this is…’

Short panicked breaths leave Sunni as they try to pull away, the attempt useless as SMG4’s hand begins to dematerialize, his entire body dissolving into wisps of red and black as they enter the Shy Guy’s body.

'A monster."

White hot pain envelops their body all too quickly as they begin to scream, collapsing to the ground as they writhe in pain, the horrible sensation quickly becoming too much for the Shy Guy to handle.

As Sunni's vision dims, the last thing they hear before the darkness swallows them whole is an unfamiliar voice.

“A Shy Guy? What an interesting addition to my collection.”

~~~~

"Dude? A Shy Guy, really? Couldn't you possess something better? Something more, I don’t know…destructive?" SMG3 asked, a hand on his hip as he looks down from the shop’s roof in disinterest.

Cracking bones and the tearing of fabric and flesh were all that answered SMG3's questions as his partner adjusted the vessel as he saw fit. Red rings form around the vessel's arms, legs, and neck. Only once his partner's tanuki ears and tail pop out in a surge of blood does SMG4 look at SMG3, a single yellow eye peering up through one of the eyeholes of the now bloody mask.

“What, you don’t like it? I thought it was cute.” SMG4’s voice rasps before falling into a coughing fit, blood dripping from the mask’s mouthpiece as he gets used to his new vessel and its limitations.

SMG3 just sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head.

This fucking dude.

[thefanficmonster]

Corpse Infested

Corpse Husband & Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mentions of dysfunctional family, Family problems, Swearing

Genre: Humor, Comfort, Platonic fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When your friend disappears for a long time, seemingly having lost interest in what fueled the most passionate fire in their life, you cannot not worry about them. Even if you wanna give them space, you will reach out, you will offer your help. You will tell them they always have you to rely on and talk to.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! I’m really sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request, but here it finally is! Hope you come across it and if you do I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

For me, it’s never hard to find things to do. I’ve constantly got things on my mind and tasks to tend to, keeping me occupied and my mind focused at all times. I think that comes with living in a home as dysfunctional as this one. I honestly can’t recall a time when my parents got along nor can I think of a time where there was at least one second of peace while the two are both present in the house. It’s always a warzone up there. I’m saying up there because I tend to live out of the basement of their home. I know living in your parents’ basement is considered a peak loser point, or the bottom of the bottom, but you’d have to believe me when I say - I wasn’t always like this. In fact, I only recently came back to this hell-hole and boy do I regret it. I mean, it was a decision forced upon me by circumstances. Trust me, I tried every other option there was. When my dorm was to be closed down and demolished, we were given a notice to start planning our next move about a month early. You can bet I immediately started looking at places but my very tragic and miserable budget didn’t allow such a purchase. No rent was adequate for me and my near-empty wallet so my second option was moving in with my best friend who was also not in the greatest of situations but I thought I’d give that a shot too.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work out. She lived in a tiny apartment with her boyfriend and his best friend at the time, so four people in one apartment was a nightmare. Still a lesser nightmare than this one but a nightmare nonetheless. Some unwanted and downright traumatizing events chased me out of that place after barely managing to pack my stuff. Therefore, finding myself on the streets again, I had no other option other than the obvious and least liked one: moving back in with my parents.

Making money during my first year of college hasn’t been easy. Working two jobs at once and also streaming video games on the side was what my time was filled with all throughout the first semester but then this damn pandemic started and now ruined everything for me. I had things going for me, I was slowly getting my life together and now it has all fallen apart yet again. The places I worked at closed down due to quarantine and I haven’t been able to steam, not only cause I’d be the victim of my parents’ comments but also cause my terrible home life would be exposed to all my fans and viewers. It’s not like I could cancel out the commotion going on right above my head, it’s a livestream and this house’s walls are cardboard thin meaning all the arguing I hear almost 24/7 will serve as background noise for my streams.

I haven’t reached out to my friends or fans to inform them of this which I feel slightly guilty about but I’m really not looking forward to having to lie to them, just as much as I’m not looking forward to having to tell them the truth so instead I’ve picked silence which is probably either worrying them or driving them insane. Either way, I’ll make my comeback soon.

Well....not very soon by the looks of it...

I have to gather the money, then I have to find a place, then comes the packing, moving out of here, moving into the new place...oh God, there’s so much to it that I don’t even wanna think about. Just that thought that I’ll be inactive for that long makes my stomach turn. Streaming’s where I’ve been channeling all my negative emotions, turning them into something positive and entertaining with the help of my friends.

Speaking of my friends, I should probably put emphasis on how amazing they are. Basically the older siblings I’ve always wished I had. I’m the baby of the group, the eighteen year old freshman in college, powering through life the best they can cause they are constantly getting tripped up by inconvenient occurrences such as this one for example. I tend to have the gang poke fun at me quite frequently - all lighthearted and with good intentions obviously - but they are also the ones to get super defensive if anyone gets the balls to talk shit about me. They’d never allow me to be the victim of any smack talk or online rumors and ‘cancel culture’ or whatever the hell people will come up with to leave others restless and wondering if they did something shady a decade ago. Well, to be fair, I didn’t even know about the concept of social media a decade ago and I’ve never been one to post much but I still have a protection squad in case anyone decides to come after me.

Little do they know the people I need protecting from are the very people that are supposed to protect me - my parents. Luckily, they don’t venture into to basement very often if at all and I have my own exit to the outside world so I don’t have to run into them unless I absolutely have to. The only time I emerge to the surface of the house - aka the ground floor - I do so to leave my share of rent money on the dining table and I usually do it when they aren’t home or when they’re asleep - that happens often with how many bottles they each knock back on the daily.

*sigh*...at least I don’t have to talk to them, right?

Anyhow, remember how I mentioned I always have things to do? Well, right now I’ve tasked myself with rifling through the large boxes containing random stuff I found in one of the basements down here to see if there’s anything I could possibly sell online. For starters, I’d like to hope there aren’t any severed body parts in here because this was one shady-ass basement before I moved in and un-creeped it a bit so I wouldn’t have to become an insomniac due to the paranoia of there being a homeless person down here with me or some paranormal entity. Regardless, old basements tend to be, apart from haunted, also filled with junk no one would find valuable despite it actually being worth something after all. That’s basically what I’m hoping to find at the moment.

As I dig through the contents of the first box, the YouTube playlist I have put on on my phone cuts off causing me to furrow my brows in confusion for a second before my ringtone pierces the silence the lack of music created.

I quickly mute the ringing and take a look at the Caller ID to see a name I never thought would pop up on my screen as an incoming call - Corpse. I, as well as many of our friends, know that he’s not the biggest fan of talking to people on the phone so this is rather surprising. Still, I pick up the call in case it’s not a mistake and an odd chance that it’s somethin urgent cause Lord knows Corpse doesn’t call people willy-nilly. 

Thank God it’s quiet up there at the moment.

“Hello?“ I try my best to cover up the confusion in my voice but I can only assume I didn’t do the best job considering Corpse replies with a slightly awkward chuckle.

“Surprised you, didn’t I?“ He asks, getting my cheeks to redden a bit, “You can’t blame a guy for calling after up and disappearing on him and on the whole internet. Where’ve you been?“

I open my mouth to respond when I hear the sound of glass breaking a shouted curse from upstairs.

Oh for fuck’s sake!

“Um...you know, places?“ I’m aware the answer isn’t only nonsensical but also sounds more like a question, but I can hardly focus on that right now. I’m too buys praying to an entity I don’t fully believe in for the situation above to not escalate.

“Uh, is everything ok over there? Where even are you right now?“ The teasing tone to his voice is all but gone at this point, replaced with deep concern, having obviously heard the commotion that did the exact opposite of what I prayed for - escalated.

“Y-yeah, it’s ok. It’s just another Thursday, you know.“ I attempt a small laugh but it’s blatantly miserable, “I moved back in with my parents when they announced the quarantine so that’s where I’m at now. They’re not the quietest of folks as you can tell so...“

“I FUCKING HATE YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I HOPE YOU DIE“

Oh crap, here we go.

“...So I can’t really stream a lot...or at all.“ I mutter, cringing with all my might, “But it’s only temporary! I’ll get back in the saddle as soon as I find another place to stay.“ I don’t dare mention how long that’s gonna take me, it’ll be too disappointing and depressing for the both of us. “So yeah...um...thanks for showing concern but there’s really nothing to worry about. I’m ok, everything’s ok, things are just...a bit off the rails, but I’ll fix em no problem. Like I always do!“ I attempt to sound as cheerful as possible with little success due to the overwhelming anger I feel towards those people upstairs and the gut-wrenching nostalgia for the world of streaming I can no longer be a part of because of them. Actually, I put the blame first on the pandemic and second on my parents - if it wasn’t for Covid I’d probably still be in my dorm!

“Hey...um, I think I know an affordable place where you can take up residence. Only if you want to, of course.“ He sounds hesitant but I easily overlook that as excitement bursts throughout my entire being at the sound if an escape being offered to me just like that. Had I known I’d find the solution to my problem in the very people I spent time avoiding because I was afraid of their pity, sympathy and judgement.

“Oh please, it could be a rat and roach infested shoe box and I’d go running to it. How much is rent?“ I ask through a gasp of hurried laughter that’s a result of my inability to contain said excitement. Listen, I’ve been sitting here in Hellsburg for three months now and haven’t gotten a proper shuteye during that whole period, whatever Corpse is offering has to be better than this misery.

“Rent can be discussed once you move in...“ He trails off, “And it’s not rat nor roach infested but there’s a slight issue...“

“Which is?“ I’m honestly expecting the worst: in a bad neighborhood; faulty wiring with a high chance of being electrocuted; faulty piping with a high chance of flooding; people have died there; things get randomly moved around in the middle of the night etc. However, I don’t voice any of them to avoid getting laughed at for my wild imagination.

“Well, uh, it’s corpse infested.“ He says a little awkwardly, causing me to let out an inaudible sigh.

So my ‘people have died there’ guess was on point, huh?

“People have died there, huh? Well, I can turn a blind eye to that as long as I don’t find their bodies in the closet or meet their spirits at 3AM.“ I attempt to joke, now second-guessing my eagerness to accept the offer.

Corpse bursts out laughing his ass off at my statement, getting me to furrow my eyebrows in confusion and wonder what I said was so funny - it was a poor attempt at a joke, it in no way deserves that sort of reaction, barely a chuckle in my opinion.

“You’re golden, Y/N, I swear.“ He says once he forces the laughter to subside, “I meant corpse infested as in Corpse Husband infested.“ He breaks out in another fit as my brain slowly starts connecting the dots.

Oooohh he’s asking me to go live with him

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait, hold up for a sec. Are you aware of what you’re offering me? I mean, we’ve never met IRL, you barely know me and....and for all you know I could be the serial killer in this situation!“ I have no idea why I’m pushing my luck, don’t ask. I just don’t want him to make a decision he’ll later regret, I guess. “Like, I could kill you in your sleep!“

“Would you?“ He asks confidently, silently stating he already knows the answer.

I roll my eyes, “Of course not! But...” He cuts me off.

“Great, the offer stands on my end. I’m not a noisy nor nosey roommate so I suggest you start packing. If you choose to live in that hell-hole over living with me, I’m sorry but I’ll be hella offended, just so you know.“

Corpse sounds like he’s about to hang up on me, a decision already made, so I hurry to stop him. “Wait! What about rent?”

“Fuck the rent, pack your bags.“ And just like that, despite my efforts, he hangs up on me.

Well...this is a chance of a lifetime that I know refusing would lead me to not only remain stuck here but also put me in the hugest loser bin. There’s also the fear of being Corpse’s burden which I’ll try my best not to be - I mean, I’m a super independent person and Lord knows that if this offer came any other time or from any other person, I would’ve declined asap, no discussion.

But streaming

But sleeping properly

But having a normal life again

Yeah those are most certainly the reasons I get up and go into the closet in search on my emptied suitcase. Time to fill it up again, I guess. This time with a smile on my face and excitement fueling each and every movement of mine.

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[littlemissagrafina]

A Man And His Bots

A look into the relationship and care between Tony and his bots and A.I's.

Read on AO3

Tony had people issues. Everyone knew it. He knew it.

People were foreign to him, they had been ever since he was young. He just couldn't understand them.

No, that was wrong, he could understand them, it just wasn't always easy to do and more often than not it was exhausting to even try. Sure, there were some people he understood, his mom, Jarvis, and even Howard. Tony could understand him easily. It didn't take a genius to know that the elder Stark disliked, even hated, his son at times.

The tears and occasional bruises left on Tony's skin were a testament to that fact.

Anyone other than his mother and Jarvis were almost a trial to talk to and to be around. It made the social networking at events that he was pushed into by his parents that much more unbearable for Tony. 

The dinners, gala's, and charity events were some of the most draining nights in Tony's young life that he could remember. They always left him longing to be back in his room with his tools and various pieces of metal and machinery.

Maria and Jarvis understood his need to be alone and in the quiet of his own little world, but Howard hated it. Oh, he hated it. But usually if Tony had behaved well enough through what felt like the hundredth event in the space of a month, the man would turn a reluctant blind eye to the nights that his wife and Jarvis would help Tony sneak out to the quiet solitude of his room.

Tony grew to miss those nights where they would help him escape once he was shipped off to boarding school on his father's command. At least finishing senior year by fifteen had left him without many friends, either due to jealousy, bullying, or his own unwillingness to socialise.

Most of them had been after his money and status anyway, a hard fact Tony had had to face when the rare times of loneliness forced him to attempt a friendship with anyone. Eventually he stopped caring to try, and he spent his lonely nights as he always had, with tools, scraps, and blueprints.

It was thanks to those nights the the rudimentary start of his own A.I and been birthed, the work and escape it provided lasting right into his first year at MIT where, much to his surprise, he seemed to have formed what he thought could be a genuine friendship with his roommate.

James Rhodes. Or Rhodey as Tony had taken to calling him. In the beginning the older teen had come across as a stuck up,  goody two shoes. Over time, he had proven to have a fun and mischievous side that matched perfectly to Tony's own as they grew closer.

Although Tony had grown attached to his Honeybear, it didn't take away from the many, many times he needed his own space and a quiet retreat; a fact that Rhodey understood just as Maria and Jarvis had, something that took Tony by endless surprise.

Rhodey showed Tony an unused room near the campus labs, explaining that it was once meant to be an extension of a separate lab but had never been pulled properly into the plans and curriculum. As such, it had been forgotten in a way.

It was the perfect room for Tony to turn into his own getaway, and one that Rhodey had even helped him set up with a couple spare benches and tables they found in the storage rooms, soon filling it with other things such as a random couch they found in perfect condition outside a frat house, some equipment for Tony’s inventing, and other stray items they collected over time.

It was in this room that Dumm-E whirred fully to life, finally sentient and real.

And Tony loved him.

---

Eventually U would join Dumm-E in the "brotherhood of bots" as Tony called them even though there were only two of them.

He wasn't quite sure how it happened (if at all), sometimes even imagined if he was just reading too much into it, but Tony swore that his little bots seemed to express emotions at times.

There were little whirs that they emitted when he would power them up or if they were on when he entered a room. They almost felt like greetings to Tony.

There was also the panicked beeping at the numerous fires Tony would inevitably cause, or when he injured himself in the lab. Of course, followed by their more often than not misshapen attempts and trying to help him with said fire or injury.

Tony didn't think he'd ever be able to leave a fire extinguisher safely in their keep but he still continued to try.

There were other instances that made him question the emotional range of the little A.I's he'd made, but it was their greetings and "helpful" times that always managed to warm his heart.

They weren't people, but they were his and he could understand them.

And he hoped the bots somehow knew how much he cared for them in turn.

---

It was after Jarvis' death that Tony truly became dependent on his creations. Sure, he'd needed them after his parent's death, just like he'd always needed his tinkering, inventing, and whatever other techy think he was doing at that time.

But Jarvis' death… it broke him in a way that Howard and Maria's hadn't been able to. If he felt like it, Tony could probably wonder the reasoning behind it, if it was because of the clear difference in affection, care, and feeling of responsibility that the man held rather than what Howard or Maria had. But he didn't feel like it.

It was listening to a recording of a voicemail that Jarvis had sent him during college that gave Tony the idea. 

Locking himself in his lab, he hunted down every other voicemail or video he could get his hands on, typed code until his fingers cramped, and downed coffee until his legs were buzzing.

Rhodey knocking on his door in an attempt to curb his friend's self-destructive tendencies was flat out ignored, each call and voicemail not heard.

It continued until his single minded grief and need to create and to fix was softened and his work complete.

The most advanced A.I known to man was created, and Tony's loneliness and grief had someplace to go.

Jarvis was reborn.

---

The familiar safety and retreat of the bodyless British voice stayed with Tony for so many years. It was there through his many tabloid rises and falls, his numerous parties, one night stands and two week girlfriends.

It was there for his breakdowns, his breakdowns, and retreating from the world around him.

He was there before Afghanistan and once again after. Through Iron Man being born, through Obie's betrayal, the palladium, avengers, Killian.

All of it and Jarvis was there. Sure Tony had people to lean on, to love. He had Rhodey, Pepper, and Happy, but Dumm-E, U, and Jarvis were different.

The A.I had slowly become an entity to Tony. He wasn't just an animated voice anymore, he was the legacy of the man who was once practically his father.

And it was only so fitting that he experience the grief and loss of the man twice.

When Ultron happened and Jarvis was destroyed, Tony felt as if he went into a blanket of shock, only feeling and grieving once he was fully alone. And dammit did he grieve.

It manifested in anger first, and when that faded, it moved to sadness. A deep aching sadness reminiscent of his first loss. He hated it, loathed it, and wished he had the same outlet he had had for the first death.

But didn't he?

What was stopping him from creating it again? But not another Jarvis. Tony couldn't do this again, but what if he created another A.I? One separate from Jarvis and his meaning?

So he got to work, alone with his bots and once again spinning his grief into lines of code.

This time, a sister for Dumm-E and U was born. A spunky, Irish A.I with a similar proclivity for sarcasm to what her predecessor held.

"Lights on, baby girl. We've got work to do."

---

Just as Tony had grown to need Dumm-E and U, how he had needed Jarvis, he needed Friday too.

He supposed it sounded strange to regular people, the way he was more comfortable around his creations than around most of the human population, but to him it wasn't unlike the way people would gravitate towards animals, or books, or art.

It was easy for Tony. It was a comfort to him in the same way having a cat on your lap or a dog across your feet was, just in a different, mechanical or technical form.

The constant presence of Friday in his lab and his suits and his home was important to Tony. The strange alliance and comradery they had formed once again boosting the feeling of curiosity and care towards the emotions his creations had developed.

It was something he cherished, something he needed.

She wasn't Jarvis, but she had helped him and been with him in his times of need since she had been born, and Tony knew her and the bots would be there, still, in many times to come.

"Drop my needle, Fri. And show me Peter's patrol feed too, would'a?"

"Right away, boss."

[jikookiekosmos]

The Angel on Your Shoulder and the Devil in Your Corner || jjk (Part 5)

➥Pairing: angel!jungkook/reader, demon!jungkook/reader

➥Rating: nc17

➥Content Warnings: some cursing, mentions of pain

➥Words: ~1.2k

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Jungkook had barely any time to wonder about what Jin might be scheming before the demon in question called his phone. He answered it swiftly, Jin cutting to the chase and skipping all the formalities.

"Where are you right now?"

Jungkook blinked. "At my place. Why?"

"I'm coming over, we have some things to discuss."

"What things-"

The word hardly finished falling from his mouth before he heard a knock at his door. He opened it without checking who was on the other side, and Jin strolled in without so much as a glance at Jungkook. He sat in his preferred seat as Jungkook was closing the door.

"Make yourself at home," Jungkook mumbled before joining Jin in the lounge area. He leaned against one of the walls facing Jin as he crossed his arms.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this - very unexpected - visit?"

"My dear, sweet Jungkookie," Jin spoke, voice as smooth as satin, "what would you say if I told you I may have a solution to your problem?"

Jungkook’s eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"Mhm. I think I may know the person you saved earlier."

Jungkook's breath hitched.

"You...you do?"

Jin leaned back and laced his hands together behind his head, acting way too casual for Jungkook's liking.

Something was up-

"In fact, I'm almost positive I know them, and very well at that." He used one of his hands to retrieve his phone from his pocket. "Would you like to see a picture?"

Jungkook cautiously walked over to stand behind where Jin was sitting, only wondering for a second if this was maybe some sick prank he decided to play on Jungkook's poor soul.

Jin was a good friend, but he was also a demon. Things like that weren't necessarily out of the realm of possibility.

But when Jin's screen lit up, Jungkook stopped breathing altogether.

A picture of you with a dazzling smile was staring him square in the face, and he felt that same pull from before, albeit much more muted.

"Is this them," Jin nudged the phone into Jungkook's hands so he could get a better look.

"Y-yeah," Jungkook managed to stammer out. "How did you-"

"Would you believe me if I told you I'm one of their best friends and favorite supernatural being on the planet?"

Jungkook regarded him with suspicion.

"Ok, so I'm the only supernatural being they know currently - but I am one of their closest friends, that much is true."

Jungkook didn't know what to say. He truly had no idea how to respond to that.

You, the person he had convinced himself would be gone forever after your encounter today, the closest thing he'd ever had to a 'calling' that he'd resigned himself to believing had slipped through his fingers-

-you were so much closer than he could've ever imagined. If Jin was being sincere, that is.

"Prove it," Jungkook just got the last word out before he saw Jin scrolling through a picture album. Within seconds he pulled up a selfie of himself with you seated in front of him. His arm was wrapped around you, resting just above your collarbone as you held onto it with your hands. You were smiling just as brightly as you'd been in the first picture.

Well, the two of you certainly looked close.

"Still need more proof?"

Jungkook nodded apprehensively, only because this had potential to become a big deal.

To his surprise, Jin fixed him with a devilish grin. "I figured you'd say that. Well, c'mon then."

He sauntered over to the door, leaving Jungkook no choice but to follow.

"Where are we going?"

Jin's grin widened, making Jungkook feel slightly unsettled but very intrigued.

"I'm going to give you undeniable proof."

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"I really don't see why we couldn't just teleport," Kook groaned in frustration, kicking a stray pebble on the sidewalk as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "It's so much easier and faster than this."

Namjoon rolled his eyes. "Do you have any idea where we're supposed to be going?"

Kook pouted. "Well - no. But if you let me just-"

"No, I will not allow you to posses your brother to find out where he's at. You can do the normal thing, like, I don't know, call him?"

"Yeah but that's no fun. Plus, don't you think it's kinda like mocking humans if we have this supernatural ability but choose not to use it? I mean, I'm sure I would be offended." Kook gave Namjoon a hopeful stare, but Joon wasn't having it.

"You're just used to having instant gratification. Slow done once in a while and enjoy the simpler things in life, it'll do you some good."

Another huff from Kook. "But I don't want good, I want exhilarating. Geez, you angels and your constant desire to do the right thing all the time. Shit sounds exhausting."

Namjoon quirked an eyebrow. "You sure you're not just fussy right now because you don't feel well?"

Kook scoffed. "No." He wrapped an arm around his midsection and Joon's expression softened.

"Kook-"

"Ok, fine, maybe a little bit. I wanna get this over with quickly so I can resume my pain-free life of demonic deeds," Kook grumbled.

"Has the pain subsided at all?"

Kook shook his head, blonde tresses falling into his eyes as his frown deepened. "Not really. Probably because we have no idea where the fuck we're supposed to be heading."

"Should we go the other way instead?"

"Nah, let's keep walking. Something will happen eventually," Kook sighed. After a few more minutes of walking in silence, Joon suddenly sprinted forward, leaving Kook behind.

"Hey, wait up," he called after his friend, jogging to catch up while he tried to ignore more sharp jabs of pain that followed each jarring step.

Joon stopped in front of a plant shop, one that looked relatively new, as if it hadn't been open very long. The way his eyes lit up never failed to bring a smile to Kook's face.

"I take it you didn't know this was here?"

Joon shook his head slowly, eyes not leaving the plants on display in the window. The plant shop he used to frequent had closed down weeks ago, so he had been supporting his plant collecting habit by shopping in places out of town.

Kook had an idea then, one that he felt would benefit the both of them. Mostly him, but Joon would get something out of it, too.

"Joonie," he cooed, pulling the angel's attention away from the window for a moment, "you can go look inside if you want."

Joon ducked his head shyly. "But...what about you?"

Kook gave his most reassuring smile. "I'll be fine. I can call you if I need you, yeah? I know you want to look around, and I don't want to hold you up."

Joon gazed back at the shop almost reluctantly before agreeing. "A-alright. But you call me if anything goes awry, understand?"

"You got it, Joonie."

Kook turned to walk the opposite direction, already plotting his next move as Joon called after him with a warning. "Don't do anything reckless!"

Kook acknowledged him with a wave over his shoulder, walking at a normal pace until he rounded the corner. Once he was out of sight, his smile slipped into one full of devious intent.

"Alright baby bro, I hope you're up for company."

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⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

Part 5: Prove It

You never anticipated on having anything other than a friendly relationship with beings of the supernatural type…until one day an angel saves your life, and then a demon shows up on your doorstep. And when twin entities start vying for your affection, you’re not quite sure how to handle it. One thing is for certain, though: there’s never a dull moment in your life anymore.

A/N: I promise the ‘calling stuff’ will be explained super soon! Like next update most likely, because we have some exciting stuff coming up 👀

Currently there isn’t any kind of update schedule but I’d like to do updates whenever possible; I do work full time and attend grad school so finding time to write can be a little hard. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it; and if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please let me know~

taglist: @dntaewithluv @inlovewiththemoonn @girlontheblock @mwitsmejk @jkslachimolala

➥Part 6 (coming soon!)

➥Series Masterlist

➥All Works Masterlist​

[grahas-gourmet-hamburger]

Febhyurary Day 12: Tomorrow

Polydeukes and his golden steed, Phlogeus, flew through the air back towards where he knew his brother Kastor was waiting. He could have teleported, but he knew what was coming, and he wanted to enjoy this beautiful world while he still could. He wished Venat hadn’t told him what was to come – they had argued for the first time in ages over it, for all that it couldn’t be undone – but he guessed there was something to be said for having this time. He’d traveled so much of Etheirys in his time as Azem, and before that as Venat’s protege, he wasn’t sure there was any part of it or its people that he wouldn’t miss. Not that he’d remember it to miss it soon enough, he supposed.

The worst part, he thought, would be possibly losing his brother. They were practically of the same soul – a fact which neither of them was above exploiting for fun and profit, particularly if it came with a side of tweaking Emet-Selch’s nose, since even his Sight had difficulty telling them apart if they weren’t in the same room – but that might not mean much in this new Sundered world that Venat proposed to make. Oh, she said she was trying to avoid having to do it, but he could hear in her voice that she wasn’t really sure it was possible, that whatever had happened at Elpis (she wouldn’t tell him the whole story) had convinced her too deeply that this terrible future was nigh unavoidable. Yet another thing they’d argued about. Polydeukes wasn’t of a mind to just give up like that, and it was baffling to him that his infuriatingly stubborn mentor seemed poised to do just that. Either that, or there was a lot she wasn’t telling him, which.. truth be told, was probably more likely.

He heard an alarmed shout below and turned Phlogeus into a circling dive while he reached out to the beloved other half of his soul, requesting that Kastor join him. As he came closer, he found a truly unsettling creature covered with mouths menacing a group of what he thought were Akadaemia students. He jumped from Phlogeus’s back before the steed had reached the ground, brilliant golden spear materializing in his hands at a thought, and stabbed downwards, using the force of his fall to increase the power of the strike. The creature didn’t fall, though, so he took a defensive stance, using the reach of the spear to herd the creature back away from the students; he could use magicks, but he’d always preferred a more hands-on approach.

Soon, he felt his brother’s approach and knew Kastor would take care of the students, so he transformed the spear into a golden aura around his fists and dashed forward, harrying the creature with blows too fast for it to dodge. It shrieked, the sound layered dissonance from its many mouths that hurt his ears to hear, but he kept up the attack. The creature was faster than it looked, so he had to stay on his toes, but this was hardly his first battle; this creature wasn't as easy to read as most, there being something strange about its aether, but he could adapt. As they fought, he steadily maneuvered it back away from the students, hoping that if he could get enough distance, Kastor would be able to join in. Finally, they must have gotten far enough that his brother felt it safe, because out of nowhere a starry lance fell upon the creature, slamming it into the ground, and Kastor appeared with it, leaping back to land near Polydeukes, glimmering silver lance at the ready. “Need a hand, brother?” he asked.

“Well, I wouldn’t say no. The beastie’s tough. I wonder who’s responsible for this one; I might have to have a word with Hythlodaeus if they're letting things like this through,” Polydeukes replied. Together they laid into the creature, building off each other’s attacks the way they always had, fighting as one entity in two bodies. In the end, the creature was no match for them, and with a final massive uppercut from Polydeukes combined with a downward leap from Kastor, it fell to the ground with a tremendous thud and didn’t get back up. As they watched, still on guard in case it wasn’t actually dead, it crumbled to ash and dissipated into the air. They exchanged a worried glance at that, both of them recognizing that tell-tale sign from Venat’s story (of course Polydeukes had told Kastor, he couldn’t keep a secret from his brother to save his life).

Kastor looked up at the brilliant blue sky with a frown. “I thought this was meant to come with falling meteors and burning sky?”

Polydeukes shook his head, letting the aether around his hands fade, and said, “I know only what she told me. Mayhap whatever showed her what was coming didn’t go this far back. For now, we should patrol the area. If this is the kind of creature she spoke of, there will be more, and.. well, tomorrow might be a very different day. We had best be ready for it.” Kastor nodded, dematerializing his lance, and whistled for Xanthos, his mount. Polydeukes gripped his brother on the shoulder, pressing their masked foreheads together briefly, then let go to climb back onto Phlogeus’s back. “Be safe, brother.” Kastor nodded, blue eyes warm through his mask, and they went their separate-but-still-connected ways, readying themselves for the calamity to come.

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Aedan and Viko are Pollux and Castor (or Polydeukes and Kastor, in Greek). In this time, Kastor is one of Azem's permanent companions and joins him on his travels. They're not anywhere near Amaurot during this story; they just happened to be in the area where the first instance of the Final Days would appear, because Aedan/Azem's timing is exceptional like that.

I have a personal headcanon that Venat told Azem a fair amount about what was coming, and they had a serious disagreement about how to handle it, in no small part because Venat decided not to share the whole story about Azem's Sundered future self being the source of her knowledge, etc. I also figure there were stray instances of the Blasphemies showing up well before the sky changed, just like in later days, but because the Ancients were always creating new weird creatures (and the creatures were Creation magic gone wrong, not actual people turning), people didn't quite realize what was going on until the sky finally burned.

[angst-fairygodmother]

Brain Teasers (A Light Fingers Moment In Between)

A/N: We really run the gamut with this one, genre wise. Explains why a "Moment" in Between is longer than an average actual chapter (I did math to find out). Word Count: 3086 Rating: E(xplicit) Content Warnings: unprotected sex, public sex

“Whatcha doin?” you asked casually, entering the apartment to set down the brown paper bags in your arms.

As you turned back around to lock the door, you were surprised when Diego didn’t even look up from whatever he was hunched over at the table. 

“Diego? Is everything alright?”

Concern creased your brow as you made your way over to him, groceries forgotten. 

You leaned in to kiss his cheek in greeting, frown deepening when he backed away before you could. He looked up at you, eyes stormy with rage as he gestured to the papers he had been reading. Your papers.

“The mayor’s re-election gala? I thought you didn’t hit targets with people present?” he snapped.

“I don’t,” you sighed, rolling your eyes. “I steal because I’m good at it, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to have a little fun with it when I can. And every thief dreams of having the skill to be able to rob the rich blind of their belongings right out from under their noses, while smiling at them over a flute of champagne.”

“What are you saying, Y/N?” his voice was hesitant but still laced with anger.

“That it was a game. A brain exercise. I would never actually do it.”

You reached out again, laying your hand over one of his where it rested in a fist on the table. 

“I promise, Diego. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He sighed, relaxing almost instantly, the tension dropping from his shoulders and his hand uncurling beneath your fingers. He slowly turned his palm upward, looping his fingers through yours and giving you a gentle tug forward until he could wrap you in a hug. 

“I’m sorry for accusing and getting mad at you for no reason,” he muttered, cheek resting against the top of your head.

“All is forgiven. It did look admittedly sketchy.” You chuckled, looping your arms around his waist. “Make it up to me by putting away the groceries?”

He sighed.

“I think it’s more than reasonable,” you argued.

“Did any of it need to be chilled?”

“No, I don’t think so today. Why?”

“Then they can wait,” he hummed, trailing his lips against your jaw. “I’d rather make it up to you this way.”

You couldn’t resist the huff of amusement that escaped you, even as you tilted your head to give him more access to your most sensitive spots.

“This is not the solution to every problem, you know.” You teased, fingers tightening against his back as he nipped at your skin.

“Only most of them?”

“Groceries now, and you can be a teasing bastard later,” you scolded, trying to fight back a moan as he trailed his tongue over the spots he had been biting.

“Promise?”

Laughing, you shoved his shoulder lightly. He reluctantly let you go, chuckling and walking off to the kitchen to do as he was told. 

You stayed where you were, looking down at the papers he’d been upset by. The plan was a diagram for a simple two man lift, mostly wallets and loose bracelets. Probably the most plausible scenario you’d ever mapped out, so you supposed you could see where his confusion lay. You wondered whether you should find some other way to do these exercises, or label them so they wouldn’t be an issue again in the future.

Fighting with Diego, even just the chance of it, made you feel like your world was off-kilter. 

“You like puzzles...” he mused from the kitchen, interrupting your thoughts.

“You should know that already, Diego,” you teased, not looking up as you scooped everything into a pile.

“I do. Just...thinking out loud.”

You turned to look at him, eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Oh? About what?”

“Nothing,” he smiled mysteriously, walking over and pressing a kiss to your cheek as you dumped the papers haphazardly in a file drawer. “Don’t worry about it. Rice or pasta for dinner?”

~

“I have a surprise for you,” Diego said a few days later, not long after getting home from one of his usual shifts at the gym. “But you have to find it first. Patch helped me set up a bunch of challenges for you.”

“You’re going to make me do a scavenger hunt?” You raised an eyebrow incredulously at him.

“Yes. No? Only if you want to…?” He shifted nervously, and you couldn’t help but giggle as you gave him a quick kiss and smiled. 

“I love it. Now where do I start?”

Producing a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, he proudly read a riddle off to you. Tapping your thumbnail against your bottom lip, you listened intently to every word, mind already racing. Part of you was still trying to work out what Diego was up to, but most of you was focused on winning his little game.

~

Solving the latest of the anagram, to generate a riddle rather than a more direct instruction, you sighed, rubbing at your temples.

“Diego, honey,” you said sweetly. “Were you planning on having me play these games all night?”

“What do you mean?” he frowned.

“This is the tenth puzzle. I’m having fun but...how many are there?”

“Just a few more, I promise,” he kissed your cheek before ushering you off to follow the latest ‘clue.’ “And it’ll be worth it.” 

Under his breath he added an almost frustrated, “I hope” but you decided it was best not to respond, since you likely weren’t meant to hear it in the first place.

~

Finally, you made it to the end of Diego’s quest, and froze. All of his looping, wild goose chase steps had brought you to a quiet rooftop garden, perfectly laid out for a picnic. The borders of the secluded area were scattered with tiny candles and a few cut white roses were strewn across the large grey blanket. Somewhere, unseen among the flowers, a radio softly crooned. 

Completely at a loss for words, you turned back to Diego who hovered a few steps behind you, smiling softly as he looked at you, framed in the dim lights and flowers. Invitingly, he stepped closer, hand held out with palm turned upward. As you placed yours on top of it, he closed his fingers lightly around you and wrapped his other arm around your waist. 

“I know there’s a picnic to get to,” he murmured. “But I thought you might like to dance first?”

“I would love to,” you answered lightly, delicately placing your free hand on his shoulder.

Pressed close together, the pair of you swayed to the faint music and the night sounds around you. The more relaxed you became, the more naturally it came to you, as if the pair of you were one entity, and you wanted to stay there forever.

“Not that you’re not welcome to do romantic shit whenever you feel like it, but what’s all this for, Diego?” you asked eventually, quietly so that you didn’t shatter the moment. 

“It’s our anniversary,” he led you in a graceful twirl so that you were tucked against his body, back to chest. 

“No it’s not…” you let yourself there in his arms, gently rocking in time, for a moment before spinning back. 

“Of the day we met,” his arm tightened around your waist to pull you a little closer. “Three years ago today. I tried to time it to the hour but you solved everything quicker than I thought you would.” 

“You remembered that?” you stumbled a step, but he was quick to hold you up and help you find your rhythm again. 

“Obviously. It was important. I knew it even then. You didn’t?”

“No? At the time I didn’t think anything of it,” you shrugged. “It was just another Wednesday.”

“You don’t remember the date,” the air rushed past as he dipped you and quickly righted you once more, “but you do remember that it was a Wednesday?”

“Sure. There’s only seven days in a week to keep track of, as opposed to 365 in a year.”

He chuckled and shook his head, slowing to a stop and gesturing to the picnic blanket, wordlessly suggesting you take a break. He had laid out some of your favorite foods on little plates, and a fancy bottle of lemonade, that if you knew him at all was probably freshly homemade by Grace, stood beside two thin-stemmed glasses.

“Diego...everything tonight has been so perfect,” you sighed, tears springing to your eyes as the pair of you settled into comfortable seated positions. “The food, the flowers, the garden. The fact that it feels like up here, we could be the only two people in the world.”

“It’s also the best place in the city to see the stars,” he offered casually, popping a chunk of fruit into his mouth.

“How long have you been planning this?”

“A couple of weeks. I had help with the execution.” 

You wanted to fling yourself into his arms and shower him with kisses, but since that would have required upsetting everything he had worked so hard to put together, you refrained.

“I feel awful now that I didn’t remember and get you anything or do anything for you in return,” you admitted, biting your lip.

“Don’t. I did this because I wanted to treat you and show you how I feel. But I don’t need you to reciprocate. Just...having you here, with me. With me. It’s more than I could ask for.”

“Okay, that’s it,” you muttered and began shifting plates and bowls and the two wine (or rather lemonade) glasses off to the side.

“What are you doing?” he asked, watching you with a puzzled expression.

“Clearing a path so I can do this.” 

You reached across the space, closing the gap between you and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Pressing your lips to his, you tried to channel all of your emotions into the connection. Unsurprisingly, he kissed you back, one hand cradling the back of your head and the other finding your hips to pull you flush against him. Running your tongue across his lower lip in askance, you smiled into the kiss when he opened up for you. As you mapped the details of each other with tongue and touch as if you didn’t already know them all by heart, he drifted onto his back, bringing you across his lap to straddle his hips. 

“This was supposed to be romantic,” he pointed out as you both broke for air. 

“It is romantic. There’s stars and candles and roses. All the hallmarks,” you teased, rolling your eyes. “Unless you’d like to stop?”

“No!” his grip on your waist tightened, stopping you from your feigned movement to climb off of him. “I was just saying...”

“I was just going to kiss you and then go back to our very sweet picnic. This position was all you,” you smirked down at him.

“That’s not…” he sighed, realizing that he was, as usual, rising to your bait.

“I know,” you placed a swift, chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “But you’re so much fun to tease, baby. Have been since day one. Although I think then I said something about you pinning me, not the other way around.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him and hummed in agreement.

“This view is so much better though. Is teasing all you plan to do, sweetheart?” His expression shifted to a smirk of his own as he rolled his hips beneath you. 

“It wasn’t, but if you’re going to play dirty...it’s tempting.” 

Your lips found the most sensitive point beneath his jaw and you sucked lightly on it, drawing out a groan from him. You could feel his hardening length strain against his pants, pressing against your belly as you continued to lavish attention on the spot. 

“Y/N,” he moaned. “Baby, please…”

“How can I say no when you beg so pretty for me like that?” you murmured against his skin. 

His fingers dug into your hips as you rocked back enough to give better access. Bit by bit, you slowly, reverently undressed each other, pausing frequently to explore the exposed flesh with hands and lips. Fully bare before him, and him before you, you felt a hot blush creep across your cheeks at the way he looked up at you. There was desire in his eyes, yes, but more than that, he seemed to be staring as if you were a work of art, as if no matter how many times he’d seen you, he couldn’t believe that you were real. 

Awed tears stung at the corners of your eyes as you tilted your head downward and kissed him. Your lips slotted against each other, moving in perfect pattern as his hands trailed down your spine and back up again. You trailed a finger across his cheekbone before you pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, now fluttering back open.

“Ready?” you asked, a small smirk on your lips.

“For you? Always,” he answered, reaching between you and ‘accidentally’ brushing his fingers against your folds before lining himself up with your entrance. 

Slowly, you sank down, sheathing him in you completely, a shuddering sigh escaping as you did. Bracing your hands against his chest, you rolled your hips experimentally, sparks of pleasure shooting through you as the motion dragged him against every sensitive inch of your core. 

“God you’re beautiful,” he whispered reverently, tracing patterns across your skin as you continued to move.

Every brush of his fingers across your back and sides left a trail of fire behind. You bent your head to dust butterfly-light kisses across his chest, taking time to focus in particular on the scars you found there, mapping them. Gradually your pace increased as he began to roll his hips in time with yours, one hand holding your hip to keep you steady and the other massaging lightly at your breast. 

“Diego,” you moaned, begging him for the last little push you needed to make you fall apart. 

“Love the way you moan my name baby,” he purred. “Say it again. Please, baby?”

Teetering just on the edge of bliss, you complied, chanting his name like a prayer against his lips as he stretched up to kiss you again. The feel of his tongue dancing with yours and his hand tightening as his thrusts became sloppy and uneven made you cry out. He swallowed the sound hungrily, answering it with a swear as his release found him and he painted your insides with his seed. He gave a few more thrusts, bringing his free hand down to tease your clit and finally drive you over the edge, spasming around him, before he gently pulled out and you collapsed forward onto his chest, panting for breath.

“Christ, that was incredible,” you sighed.

“You always know how to make me feel so good baby,” he huffed in answer, still out of breath.

Sweaty and sated, you laid there for a while, listening to his racing heart as it slowly resumed its normal pace. Eventually, despite the warmth of the evening, your skin began to prickle with chill and you rolled off him, sorting through the pile of discarded clothing and passing his to him. 

“I don’t know about you,” he said with a smirk, “but I’ve worked up an appetite now.”

You rolled your eyes, laying back down on the blanket with him and reaching lazily for the food you had set to the side. 

“Typical,” you remarked in faux-disgust. “Sometimes I swear you are such a...man.”

With you comfortably tucked into his embrace, the pair of you picked at the offerings he’d packed for a while until you had your fill. Once neither of you had any interest in the food any longer, Diego laid back again, pulling you with him, finally gazing at the view of the stars he had promised you. In satisfied silence, you snuggled against him for a while. 

“You said you knew us meeting was important,” you said softly, trailing a finger over the thick band of muscle in his forearm as it rested across you. 

“I did.” You weren’t sure if his affirmation was of his statement or what he claimed to have known back then.

“Did you guess why? Or think we’d end up here?”

“Are you asking if it was love at first sight?” he countered, turning to look at you, warm breath fluttering your hair and tickling your ear.

You bit your lip. “I guess, yeah.” 

“It wasn’t that...clear,” he said haltingly, struggling for words.

On instinct you wound your fingers through his and gave them a gentle squeeze. You stayed silent, waiting, giving him all the time he needed. 

“But I think it was. Or something close.”

“Oh.” 

You weren’t sure what you’d been hoping to hear, or what to say to that. It scared you, in a way, to know that he’d felt so deeply for you right from the start. It scared you to admit, to risk hurting him by doing so, that you...hadn’t. Your initial draw toward him was curiosity, for most of that first year, and you had fallen in love in little pieces, giving him your heart bit by bit until one day you looked up and realized he had all of it, and you were all the happier for it. It wasn’t love at first sight, not by any means. But something about it, even at that first meeting, was inevitable.

“Y/N?” Diego asked softly, pulling you out of your racing thoughts. “Where’d you go just now?”

“I…” you licked your lips, throat feeling dry and tongue feeling heavy, “was just thinking...about when I knew…”

“And?”

“And I don’t actually remember falling in love with you. One day I wasn’t. And then I was.”

He ducked his head, kissing your shoulder, soft lips lingering on your skin. 

“That’s okay,” he murmured against your skin. “What matters is now.”

For a long time, you laid in silence, the radio still humming indistinctly, the stars twinkling overhead. Eventually you sighed.

“We should probably go home before we fall asleep here. It’s late,” you suggested.

“Hm. You’re probably right,” he hummed in agreement, though he made no move to actually do so. 

“Diego?”

“I’m just enjoying the moment a little longer. Enjoy it with me?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you snuggled tighter against him. “I guess I can manage that.”

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End Note: So this fic has a flaw. In my head most of the puzzles have a visual component and/or I didn't know how to write them, so I had to gloss over them instead. Whoops.

[beca-mitchell]

i wondered if i could come home (yours is the first face that i saw) (1/1)

Summary: Chloe works in New York. Beca works in LA. The quarantine brings them together virtually. God Bless technology.

Word count: 4,335

Read below or on AO3.

Beca had initially been ridiculously excited about the prospect of staying home. She hated dressing up just to go and sit, spaced out at her laptop.

Now she has free rein to just wear whatever the fuck she wants while spaced out from the comfort of her own home.

A quick glance around however indicates that there isn’t much to call home anyway. When Beca had moved to Los Angeles with nothing more than her laptop, twenty USBs packed with remixes and original music, and a luggage full of clothes, she had pretty much expected this.

This being the whole struggling artist thing. Her father had advised against it, her step-mother had advised against it (not like Beca really was planning on listening), and her mother was—

Well.

Beca would rather not think about it. Of course, she wouldn’t.

But she did—it was all she could think about for those first few weeks in Los Angeles. Those first few months.

When she had first made the move, she had fantasized about her mother kissing in her on her head (a phantom memory if anything) and telling her how proud she was of her for chasing her dreams.

She had imagined her mother’s arm around her shoulder as they made that final descent into LAX.

She had imagined her mother’s proud smile when she had signed the papers for her first real job in the music industry—that breath of fresh air that really cemented in her memory that she had made it. She was there in the city of her dreams. She had moved across the country from Atlanta to Los Angeles.

But eventually, with time, after one let-down after another, Beca’s USB pile grew smaller and thinner and her job became less of a temporary thing and more of a full-time thing to keep her afloat.

Are you still proud of me? She wants to ask.

She can’t quite envision the look on her mother’s face—hell she can’t quite envision the look on her father’s face or even Sheila’s face—if she were to look around her small (but cozy) apartment.

Is this what you wanted for me? Beca wants to ask.

Change just doesn’t seem to come quick enough in a city with plenty of time to spare and too many hungry dreams to fulfil.

 * * * * *

 And then there’s this.

The whole quarantine mess.

It’s a form of change, Beca supposes. Maybe not quite the one she needs at that moment.

*New Notification from Outlook You have a new message

From: Aubrey Posen

CC: Chloe Beale

To: Beca Mitchell

Subject: HR and A&R Documents and Procedure — Microsoft Teams Meeting Request

Beca groans. 

 * * * * *

 Being a producer isn’t bad. It lets Beca flex her creativity from time to time (very, very minimally) and she gets to say she’s worked on interesting musical projects.

Grumbling to herself, Beca settles down in her chair after wrestling with her hair and brush. She figures she looks moderately presentable. She even swapped out her sleep shirt for a non-sleep shirt for the purposes of this video conference.

She has no idea who Chloe Beale and Aubrey Posen are anyway, but she’s already moderately annoyed that they both insist on video conferencing when this quarantine has made evident that literally everything can be done via email.

Beca takes a calming breath. The raise is a good thing. It came at a good time. It’s a good thing to get a raise at a job she hates especially when the alternative would have been to be let go. If she has to deal with HR for the sake of this, she will.

Not like she can do anything else.

The call comes in almost as soon as Beca wheels her chair closer to her desk. She fumbles, picking up her headphones and hitting Accept.

“Hi,” Beca says, waving awkwardly at her screen. “Uh. Wow. Hi.”

Almost immediately, Beca wants to clamp a hand over her mouth. She settles on dropping her hand into her lap and clutching the fabric of her shirt to distract herself from the embarrassment rising in her.

The young woman splashed across her screen is incredibly pretty. Almost intimidatingly so. Striking red hair, loosely draped over her shoulders in comfortable waves. Soft-looking lips pulled into a gentle smile.

And her eyes—Christ, Beca thinks—her eyes are what draw Beca in the most. Startling blue. The clearest of blues that Beca has ever seen.

“Wow?” The woman smiles at Beca. “That’s quite the greeting.”

“Sorry,” Beca mumbles hastily. She ducks her head. “Surprised to still talk to people during all this, I guess,” she lies quickly. She figures saying “you’re hot” wouldn’t be the most appropriate thing to say despite how true it might be.

The red-head quirks an eyebrow at her. “I’m Chloe Beale, nice to meet you Beca Mitchell.”

Beca can’t fight the smile this time. Chloe’s voice is nice. It’s beautiful and melodic. “Hi Chloe. Nice to meet you,” Beca parrots back. “Weren’t there supposed to be like...two of you in this meeting?”

“Oh, yes!” Chloe chirps enthusiastically. “Aubrey will be joining us in just a second—oh there she is,” she says just as Aubrey’s profile image pops into Beca’s screen, cutting the size of Chloe’s face on her screen in half.

“Good morning, Beca.”

“Good morning, Aubre–”

“It’s technically afternoon for us, but anyway.”

Beca clamps her mouth shut, choosing to push her lips into a forced, polite smile. She catches a glimpse of Chloe coughing behind her hand, clearly stifling a laugh of her own.

“Did you want to run through some of the documents and responsibilities, Chloe?”

Chloe clears her throat, professional mask back in place. “Yes, sure. Well, Beca, as a senior producer—”

 * * * * *

 With half-open eyes, Beca drags herself from her bed the short distance to her desk. Foregoing her chair for the moment because she has no intent on actually sitting down yet, Beca opens her laptop and logs in to Outlook and Teams before opening Logic Pro X and GarageBand.

She has been working on some tracks for an up and coming artist as well as overseeing the production on an EP for a new artist signed to a label, so she’s kind of expecting a shitload of emails to start her day off. That can wait for the moment.

When she gets back to her computer, coffee mug in hand, Beca notices a notification marker on her applications.

*New Notification from Teams

Beca frowns. She’s not the usual recipient of messages ever. But when she sees who exactly messaged her, she can’t fight the grin. She puts her coffee down with some reluctance and opens the message fully.

Chloe Beale Hey sleepyhead, you’re finally up Thanks for sending the paperwork back yesterday

Beca Mitchell fyi i am three hours behind you timezones or something as aubrey would say

Chloe Beale Who doesn’t start their day at 6am?

Beca isn’t quite sure what to make of Chloe entirely. She’ll blame the echoing loneliness around her—loneliness being all she feels these days—but she would be lying if she weren’t totally and shallowly attracted to Chloe Beale.

But she barely knows her. In fact, Beca would go as far as to say she doesn’t know Chloe at all. Chloe could just be another faceless entity in the long string of entities in Beca’s life. Just another missed connection.

Beca sips her coffee, blinking blearily at her screen.

Beca Mitchell do you start your day at 6??

Chloe Beale It’s good for you!

Beca Mitchell coffee’s good for you

Chloe Beale i’m more of a tea drinker myself good for the voice

Beca Mitchell singer?

Chloe Beale used to be

Beca arches an eyebrow. She had known, from the sound of Chloe’s voice alone, that she was something special

(And sure, Aubrey had a nice voice too, but it had been used primarily to grate on Beca’s nerves so she’s choosing to look past it.)

Beca Mitchell whats the story there?

Chloe Beale Hmm maybe one day :)

Beca Mitchell all i have are days to spare for you

Beca hits send before she can regret it and immediately winces at how unexpectedly flirtatious it sounds. She moves to type a quick cover-up, but Chloe beats her in sending a message.

Chloe Beale i like the sound of that

Beca’s fingers hover over her keyboard. She can’t bring herself to admit the same thing, even though it’s true.

She does like the sound of that. Almost as much as she had liked the sound of Chloe’s voice.

 * * * * *

 It ends up being so easy to fall into a routine when Beca realizes that she has something to look forward to with each subsequent day.

A routine that perhaps even involves waking up earlier so she can spend more time sending Chloe dumb GIFs and debate the best bagel spreads.

It feels nice.

It feels like something Beca could get used to.

Even if Chloe is incessantly cheerful and ridiculously chipper at any given point of the day. Beca kind of likes it.

It reminds her of sunshine and a much-needed breath of fresh air.

There is the added bonus (or nightmare) of Chloe’s incessant need to abuse the video conference tool.

“Beca, make sure you have those documents signed. A&R needs them as soon as possible.”

“You couldn’t have messaged this to me? Or emailed?”

Chloe grins, blindingly so. Beca doesn’t even try to look away.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Beca tugs at the collar of her shirt (another new shirt) unconsciously before she realizes what she’s doing and drops her hand away. “And you’d know all about fun, would you?”

“Maybe.”

Beca shakes her head, mostly to hide the smile that rises on her face.

“Nice shirt by the way.”

 * * * * *

 Okay, fine.

Even that isn’t something that Beca finds herself annoyed with.

 * * * * *

 Beca bites her lip, hitting SEND before she can stop herself. The email flies away from her, an email detailing a request to video conference with Chloe for some dumb, made-up reason.

Well, no, there’s an actual reason and it’s that Beca wants to hear Chloe’s voice. That’s a good enough reason.

*You have a new Outlook Notification. Chloe Beale has Accepted Your Invitation.

Beca smiles.

 * * * * *

 Chloe Beale I’ve always wanted to visit Los Angeles

Beca Mitchell Come over here then!

Chloe Beale Maybe once this is all over

Beca Mitchell Oh right

Beca Mitchell Well if you ever need a place to stay…

Beca starts to sweat. She thinks about deleting her message, but what good would that do? Chloe has already seen it.

“Fuck,” she mutters aloud and promptly chooses to chicken out.

Beca Mitchell I know a lot of people who’d love to have you and i’ll bring you to all the best spots around town You know, me being an expert and all hahaha

“Fuck why did you say that?” Beca asks herself, resisting the urge to slam her laptop closed. She winces when she notices her unfinished work in the background.

She’s kind of more focused on the little indicator showing that Chloe has seen her message and the subsequent lack of response.

She is unfortunately sorely disappointed by Chloe’s response, despite her own attempts at haphazardly diffusing the situation.

Chloe Beale Sounds awesome!

Right, Beca mulls to herself. There hadn’t been a situation to begin with.

She lets the disappointment carry her through the rest of the day. The disappointing feeling—It is familiar but somehow more striking.

 * * * * *

 The thing about Chloe is that she makes everything easy. She never makes Beca feel bad about asking too many questions and she never makes Beca feel totally lame for taking up her time. She assures Beca that it’s fine—that she doesn’t mind at all. It makes Beca feel like a rockstar for about two seconds before she remembers that it’s Chloe’s literal job to be kind and nice to people she works with.

Right.

They’re technically coworkers. Just that. Nothing more.

And then there’s the whole...is Chloe even attracted to women conundrum. It is nice to think that Chloe is attracted to women—that Chloe would be attracted to her of all people.

It’s just such a big what if question.

(And of course the “we live 3000 miles away” issue. That issue.)

There is a strange underpinning of something else—something that Beca can’t quite place. It sends a swooping sensation through her stomach when she thinks about it. The past month or so of communicating with Chloe was rife with tense, interesting moments that make Beca second-guess herself every time.

Barring the times when she word vomits all over herself, Beca is surprised that she’s maintained a connection with Chloe for this long.

 * * * * *

 The dreams start near the end of the first month of knowing each other.

The awkward part about waking up from a dream about somebody she’s never even met in person is that Beca has no idea how to conduct herself. She barely knows how to do it in-person—conduct herself—let alone doing it online.

She tries to settle on something to occupy her mind while she works through some musical/creative block.

Her fingers type in chloe beale into Google before she can help herself.

“Fuck it,” Beca whispers, hitting enter.

She is surprised by the breadth of hits that Google returns to her. Interesting ones, nonetheless. She learns in short order that Chloe does voice acting on the side. Nothing overtly taxing, but it pleases Beca that Chloe has somewhat of a creative streak. She notes a few well-known animated series and some other gigs here and there.

An old YouTube video catches her attention.

Acapella Finals 2011

Beca can’t stop the grin that stretches across her face when she recognizes Chloe, red hair and all, front and center and singing.

She knew Chloe was a singer at heart.

She pulls up her chat before she can stop herself.

Beca Mitchell *pasted link* I see

Chloe Beale Oh my god!

Beca Mitchell Google knows all

Chloe Beale You were Googling me?

Beca’s smile drops. “Shit, uh—”

Chloe Beale Kidding! i googled you too. Didn’t think you were a taylor swift girl. All those remixes… <3

Beca blushes before she can stop herself. That had been a brief foray of fame—literally five minutes—when Taylor Swift herself had linked to one of Beca’s remixes. Beca hadn’t been savvy enough to capitalize on that in any way, however.

Beca Mitchell oh those... I wish i had more original things to say

Chloe Beale Your music is beautiful, just like you are I mean that in a totally non-weird way of course

Beca isn’t quite sure they’re saying the same things, but maybe they are. Chloe’s unwavering faith in her feels wholly misplaced more often than not.

But it’s nice.

This is nice.

Beca lets a smile consume her.

Beca Mitchell Flattery will get you everywhere

Chloe Beale That’s the hope

Beca Mitchell Back to acapella… i was wondering if i could pick your mind for an idea i had for this track i’m working on

* * * * *

 The transition to Facetime and phone calls as opposed to Teams video conferencing was a fairly recent one. Beca discovered that Chloe is an equally eager texter. Emojis and all.

“Your voice somehow sounds better over FaceTime audio,” Chloe teases.

“I was going to say the same,” Beca replies before she can stop herself. Her heart flutters. “I wasn’t the one in acapella in college, after all.”

“Oh you would have fit right in. I would have whipped you into shape, I’m pretty sure. Or maybe you would have helped us win instead. Being as talented as you are and all.”

“I wish I could have known you then,” Beca says bravely.

“You would have changed my life,” Chloe admits. She says it with a smile, but there is no hint of a joke in Chloe’s tone. “I don’t sing anymore,” she finally says. “Not after that last acapella competition. The one you sent me.”

“Oh, why not? Your voice is…” Beca trails off, struggling to find words. For all the time she spends with music—literally layering vocals and instrumentals—she cannot understand how she cannot find appropriate words to describe how Chloe’s voice makes her feel. “I’m sorry...I’m usually better at this. Why don’t you sing anymore?”

“I had to have surgery for my nodes in my senior year of university. I’ve been too afraid to sing again.”

That breaks Beca’s heart more than anything. “But your voice is okay now,” she says lamely.

“I haven’t really had an opportunity to sing again. Working for B&R Records is the closest I can get to the music industry. Not that I ever thought I’d sing professionally or anything.” Chloe sighs, then her voice softens even more. “I admire you so much for pursuing your dreams, Beca. You’re so much better than you know. I’ve listened to your stuff.”

Beca swallows.

Her heart isn’t fluttering.

It is racing, almost uncontrollably.

 * * * * *

 They talk for hours.

Beca tries not to think about it as she wakes up to her phone pressed against her cheek uncomfortably and the faintest memory of Chloe humming something hauntingly familiar.

“Shit,” she mutters, realizing that her heart has yet to stop thudding with the force of emotions she feels.

 * * * * *

  *Google search history

online dating

quarantine dating

flights to New York

amazon delivery time

online dating in quarantine

relationships in covid-19

online date ideas

 * * * * *

*iMessage Notification

From Chloe Beale install netflix party!

Beca Mitchell Already did! waiting on you...

* * * * *

 Chloe ends up being the person Beca calls when she receives yet another change request for the track she had been working on. She isn’t allowed to move on to another track until this artist is absolutely pleased with the track and Beca understands how contracts works and stuff, but holy shit, she’s had it up to her damn forehead with Pimp Lo and his incessant demands to keep his music trashy (Beca’s professional opinion).

“I want to quit,” Beca declares to Chloe. She knows Chloe is done with work for the day even though Beca has about an hour or so left in her “shift” (she has decided time is a construct and she’s signing out for the day due to creative differences).

“Don’t quit,” Chloe says quickly. “And um...don’t tell me that. Professional responsibility and all.”

She says it with a joking tone, but it still stings ever so slightly for Beca. The reminder that she and Chloe are coworkers and nothing more. She’s sure she’s going to hear even less from Chloe as time goes on and when everything kind of goes back to “normal”.

But she kind of doesn’t want to stop talking to Chloe.

“It’s just annoying,” Beca complains.

“Oh honey, I know,” Chloe sympathizes. Beca warms at the term of endearment.

“Beca, your music is good,” Chloe promises earnestly. “I’ve listened to a lot of music over the past few years I’ve been working here...just promise me you won’t give up, okay?”

Unexpected anger wells up in Beca. She identifies frustration, annoyance, and some measure of pain—all of which have to do largely with this entire situation. Somehow, she manages to tamp it all down and focuses on the sincerity of Chloe’s voice.

“I just don’t want to...have my ideas shot down like this anymore,” she finally murmurs, taking a breath to steady herself.

“I know,” Chloe promises. “It won’t always be like that though.”

“I’ve been out here for a year. Verging on two.”

“I know,” Chloe repeats, sincere understanding in her tone. “And it sucks that Hollywood just eats people up and just...I don’t know. Spits them back out like that. But...you’re special. I know you are.”

Beca shudders with her own attempt to stifle a sob. “And that’s your professional HR opinion?” she asks, trying to make it sound more like a joke so Chloe doesn’t take it badly.

Chloe scoffs, then lets out a giggle. Beca wishes more than anything she could see her face. “Yes, that is absolutely my professional HR opinion and I think you should take it. I don’t come cheap.”

It’s less than what Beca hoped for. She had hoped for something a bit more—something closer to the kind of reassurance Chloe had been giving her over the past little while. This feels like two steps backwards.

“I wish I could see you,” Beca blurts.

Chloe doesn’t say anything for a moment. A moment too long. Beca’s face heats embarrassingly quickly. She is so thankful that she is alone in her apartment.

“I’m sorry,” Beca apologizes. “That was weird. And I didn’t mean to make things weird. I’m not weird, I promise. Maybe a little. But not like that.”

Chloe laughs. “Beca, it’s okay. I know what you meant. Or what you mean.” She laughs again, this time sounding more breathless. “It’s just...I guess it’s just late and we should probably...table this for another day.”

Beca’s heart plummets.

“We don’t have to table anything,” Beca says quickly, stung by the rejection. “Forget I said anything.”

“Beca—”

“Goodnight, Chloe.”

 * * * * *

*iMessage Notification From Chloe Beale Beca, are you okay?

*iMessage Notification From Chloe Beale Call me when you can

 * * * * *

 Beca notices she has a request from HR for a video conference. There are no other details, but she knows it’s from Chloe. Her stomach tenses uncomfortably as she stares at the words on her screen. The conference is set up from about five minutes from now so she has about five minutes to get her shit together.

She hadn’t meant to ignore Chloe, she had just been a bit too absorbed into her work (as a way to avoid Chloe).

But she isn’t mad with the music she’s been making recently. She probably has Chloe to thank for that. For being an inspirational source.

She can do this.

She looks around, taking a deep breath as she takes stock of everything that she has in her apartment. Her eyes land on something by her window and she goes to grab it.

She returns to her computer just in time for the call.

“Hi,” Beca says, blinking into her computer screen. “Hi, Chloe, is everything—”

“You know, radio silence is probably the worst way to woo somebody.”

Beca thinks she might still be asleep. “Sorry?”

Chloe seems to be fighting a smile. “You don’t even know how cute you are, do you?”

“I’m not cute,” Beca says automatically.

“You are. In a hot way.”

“In a hot way,” Beca echoes. She grins. “Are you calling me hot?”

“I saw you checking me out that first day. Obvious even through webcam.”

“Oh.”

“I didn’t mind. I...never minded. Which is what makes this so hard,” Chloe says, lowering her head a little. She worries her lower lip between her teeth, leaning closer to her camera. “This is so weird and so hard. I didn’t expect to just...fall for somebody while we’re all just trying to figure out how to make things okay again, you know?”

“So…” Beca swallows, wondering if this is the appropriate forum for what she’s sure is about to come out of Chloe’s mouth.

“I like you,” Chloe admits. “I think you’re brave and talented and incredible. And there’s so much we still have to learn about each other, but I have been driving myself crazy thinking about how much I want to kiss you.” Chloe clears her throat and holds up a small pot of pretty, purple flowers. “These are for you. I couldn’t really go to the store to get a fresh bunch. But um. If I could, I would.”

Oh.

“Isn’t this against company policy?” Beca croaks out. She can’t quite believe what she’s seeing. “Like can’t they see everything? Even videos?”

Chloe shrugs. “I don’t care. Not really. Look around, Beca. Nobody really cares anymore. I just wanted to talk to you.”

Beca covers her face with her hand. “This is super embarrassing.”

Chloe giggles. “Oh stop. I’m the one literally holding out flowers to my screen.”

“No, it’s just—” Beca holds up the potted plant she had stolen from her windowsill. “Here. I brought this for you too.”

Chloe gasps. “A cactus? You shouldn’t have.”

There is a brief silence before they dissolve into giggles. It makes Beca feel the most complete and whole that she has in while.

“I’m sorry, by the way.”

“Were we even in a fight?” Beca asks aloud.

“No,” Chloe admits. “I just...thought I scared you off.”

“I think I scared myself off.” Beca crinkles her nose as she frowns. “If that makes sense.”

“That makes a lot of sense. I think it’s the most sensible thing you’ve said so far.”

 * * * * *

 Eventually, the time comes where Beca can go outside again.

Beca knows what it means to have sunshine on her face. There is no shortage of it in Los Angeles.

There is no shortage of palm trees, of warm wind, of endless beach views.

There is no shortage of too many dreams and too little opportunities for those dreams to come true.

But this—the excited yelp Chloe lets out when she pushes off the pillar she had been leaning against and the solid weight of Chloe’s body nestled firmly against her own as her arms loop easily around Beca’s neck—this is so much better than anything Beca could have dreamed for herself.

She can feel her mother’s smile, warm like the gentlest of sunrises against the back of her neck. She can feel the weight of a new pile of USBs in her bag and a fresh outlook on life.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Chloe whispers, her voice real and solid and there.

“Me too,” is all Beca can say.

She kisses Chloe like it’s the first day of the rest of her life.

fin.

[rorynorth]

Supervillains weren't supposed to pay for coffee.

In fact, Julian Godfrey had come into this very cafe last week—in full costume—to demand a free latte on his way home from holding some CEO hostage. He'd already forgotten the man's name, but the ransom money was going to fund some lavish apartment upgrades.

But today, Julian wasn't here for a drink. He was here to sit in the corner of the cafe and send emails and read and, of course, finalize his plan to take an entire city block hostage. Rather than his villainous costume, he wore the clothes he wore to his day job at the library: black pants, a dark purple button-up, and a black blazer.

He did still want his coffee, though.

Julian ran through tonight's plan as he stood in line. He'd been preparing for this for months, and it had taken a lot of training to be sure he'd be able to pull it off. This would be the biggest demonstration of his power yet.

Most importantly, he'd be doing this alone. He had to. If he succeeded, the city would see him as a real threat. He was already feared, but maybe they'd finally regard him with the same awe as they did Blazar.

Julian planned to relinquish his control of the apartment block in exchange for a considerable sum of cash—not particularly original, but money wasn't his real goal anyway. He was going to lure in the city's biggest hero and completely destroy him. Or at least, kick his ass hard enough to keep him out of commission for a few months.

One of the cashiers waved Julian over. "Next, please!"

"Macchiato. Sixteen ounce," he told her.

"Great, that'll be five ninety-five."

Julian opened his wallet and pulled out a single five dollar bill. Damn, he'd thought he had more cash. "Hold on, let me find my card—"

"You're a dollar short?" came a voice from his right.

Julian glanced up. The girl who'd spoken pulled a dollar from her own wallet and held it out to him. He briefly considered turning it down. He had plenty of money to burn, after all.

But why say no to convenience?

"Thank you," Julian said, quickly looking the girl over as he accepted the dollar. She was nearly a foot shorter than him, probably around five foot three. Her skin was light brown, her eyes were a few shades darker, she wore a white flannel over an oversized teal New Atlas University tee, and—

"Your hair's blue," he noted, lifting an eyebrow. Her curly hair, pulled back into a ponytail, was dark brown for a few inches at the roots. The rest of it was a faded turquoise.

She laughed. "Yeah, I get that a lot. And it's no trouble, really."

While Julian waited for the cashier to finish up his transaction, he watched the girl walk away out of the corner of his eye.

"Here's your change, your drink will be ready in a minute." The cashier dropped a nickel into his hand. "Next!"

Julian stood at the edge of the cafe, debating approaching the girl. It was surprising that someone would offer a stranger a dollar without being threatened, wasn't it? Yes, sure, some people were just nice, but he'd already been reaching for his credit card.

The girl grabbed her drink and left before Julian could make up his mind. An employee called his name a moment later. He grabbed his coffee and found a seat in a corner of the cafe.

You don't take a free drink from a restaurant because you can't afford it, Blazar had told him once. If you're after money, you rob a bank. You take the drink to remind people you could be anywhere, at any time. You take the drink to remind people that they're never really safe.

Julian sipped his coffee. The block of apartments he'd be attacking in a few hours was a short walk from here. He'd pass it on his way to the Complex. The area was familiar. A few times a week, for the past month, he'd spent hours generating stone beneath the streets. Still, it would be nice to take one last look at the layout. He had a lot of asphalt to break through.

He closed his free hand into a fist and formed a single stone. When he opened his hand, the small rock rested on his palm.

That was all he'd been able to do as a child. It took a lot of energy to form matter, after all. But even before he'd fully developed his geogenesis powers, he was at least able to manipulate his creations. Thank god for that. Blazar probably wouldn't have kept him around if all he could do was make pebbles.

Julian pulled out his phone. He responded to a few scheduling emails from other library employees. Checked the time. Skimmed the news. Checked the time again.

It was nearly five-thirty when he finished his coffee. As he rose to his feet, he ran a hand through his dark hair. He was really looking forward to tonight. He hadn't been this excited about a fight in a long time. During the walk to the Complex, he assessed the sidewalk beneath him, searching for the largest cracks, the weak spots he could pull the earth up through.

Storm Warning would have no choice but to show up, really. This was going to be the biggest threat the city had ever seen. Except, perhaps, for a few of Blazar's stunts. It was hard to compete with some of the fires he'd started.

Another five minutes of walking brought Julian to the alley hiding the Complex's entrance. The elevator he took could only be accessed with a key, and the only floor it went to was the top.

A text from Blazar came in halfway up the building. When are you returning to the COVE?

About to walk in, Julian replied. He'd never dare say it to Blazar's face, but he hated calling it the COVE. Not the word itself, but the overly complicated acronym Blazar had come up with. Complex of Villainous Entities. Why make it more complicated than it had to be?

The name didn't matter much, anyway. There were only four of them left now.

The elevator door opened, revealing the open living area. At the opposite end of the space were the doors to the balcony, and a hallway leading to the living quarters. To the left was the kitchen, and to the right were the couches and massive monitor that Damselfly was currently using to watch reality TV.

"Hey, Julian." Damselfly looked up from where she was draped across the couch. Her vibrant blue insect-like wings fluttered as she twisted herself around to watch him enter, glittering in the light from the kitchen. "How are your books?"

She didn't really care. The others took any opportunity they had to make a jab at Julian's job. "Library's doing great," he told her. "Is Blazar in?"

"Nope."

"What about Lord Saturn?"

"Haven't seen her, either." Damselfly's head tipped to the side. Her short, dark waves of jet black hair shifted. "What are you up to?"

"I'm getting into a fight tonight," Julian told her.

"Ooh, Storm Warning?"

"Hopefully." Storm Warning was easily the strongest hero in the city. And the most charismatic. And he was the most fun to fight.

The other heroes who popped up enough to be a household name hardly did anything beyond fighting common criminals in alleys. The minor villains they used to fight had been driven out of the city years ago, or killed. Julian ran into the smaller heroes from time to time, as did Damselfly and Lord Saturn. But Storm Warning was the only one who ever dared to fight Blazar.

"Well, if you're looking for the mask that only covers the top half of your face, it's in the sink," Damselfly said.

"Why is it in the sink?" Julian asked. He frowned. "And how did you know I was looking for that one?"

Damselfly shrugged. "You use the full mask for missions. Half mask is for big public shows. Like fighting Storm Warning." She lifted an eyebrow. "And we were out of dishes and I needed something to put my nachos on."

Julian sighed as he picked his mask out of the sink. "Did the other two say anything about when they'd be back?"

"Nope." Damselfly folded her arms over the top of the couch and rested her chin on them. "Why, you looking for backup tonight?"

"I don't need backup."

"All right, well, I'm here if you change your mind." Damselfly thought for a moment. Her wings twitched. "On second thought, there's a new episode of Haunted Weddings tonight, so I probably won't come out."

Julian rinsed off his mask and wiped it dry with a towel. "Glad I can count on you." He'd been the youngest villain at the Complex, until Damselfly showed up. While Blazar had succeeded at hammering responsibility into Julian, Damselfly hadn't been so keen on establishing herself. She preferred to tag along on whatever plans the others came up with.

"I don't get why this girl is having her wedding at her university," Damselfly said, her attention back on the TV. She tossed a piece of popcorn into her mouth and continued speaking as she chewed. "I mean, I get there was a murder, but those buildings are hideous."

Julian considered asking what exactly the point of the show was, but he didn't have time to listen to another one of Damselfly's spiels.

"You gonna go to college, Julian?" she asked.

He'd considered it, but Blazar had turned him off the idea. You don't need it. You're powerful. You can take whatever you want. He'd tried to dissuade Julian from getting a job, too, but he and Saturn had day jobs. And Julian wanted something to occupy his time, even if he didn't need the money.

"I don't know," Julian finally answered. "I'm already twenty-four."

"That's young!"

Bold words, coming from a sixteen-year-old. "I guess," Julian replied. His mind jumped to the New Atlas University shirt that girl at the cafe had been wearing. He'd spent a fair amount of time looking at their website. Was she a student? Or did she just know someone at the school?

Julian shook off the thought. The sun was setting. It was time to get ready.

The pants and shirt of his super suit were a deep purple. And, like any decent suit, the material was sturdy enough to protect him from minor blows. Then there were the white gloves, white boots, and the collared gold cape that fastened at the neck. Julian liked it, despite Blazar's occasional jab—Still haven't gotten rid of the cape yet?—but he wasn't stupid. The fastener was easy to undo, so he could pull it off before any fight really got going.

The final piece was the metal mask, also gold in color, with slits for his green eyes to peer through. It was the most iconic part, too, the thing people thought of when they heard his name. There were five points at the top, the one in the middle being the tallest, that gave it the appearance of a crown.

Like Damselfly had mentioned, he had two: one that covered his entire face, and the one he'd be wearing tonight that left the bottom of his face exposed. It made conversation easier. And threatening people. A small device embedded in the bottom edge of the mask—designed by Lord Saturn—altered the sound waves of his voice as he spoke, deepening it just enough that only people who knew him well would be able to recognize it.

Julian left his room and returned to the living room.

"I'll watch you on the news!" Damselfly called as he headed for the door. "Well, when my show's on commercial, anyway."

Julian paused. "Don't we have every streaming service?"

"I don't think you know how TV works." Damselfly waved her tablet. "Besides, if I don't watch it live, I can't follow what's happening on social media."

"Blazar might want to use the monitor to watch me."

"I don't think he's coming by tonight."

"We'll see." Julian could worry about Blazar later. It was time to focus.

Right now, he was Citadel.

~

This is the first chapter of Villain Complex, which is available to read in full on my wattpad auroraanorth. It's also linked in my pinned post!

[pinnithin-writes]

Good Jokes

Chapter 1

The new posters on the board in the break room had Tommy in stitches.

Who put this up here? They were huge sheets of paper, large enough to cover the rest of the flyers that were tacked on first. The printer’s settings were fucked, apparently, and it had rolled out three crisp eleven by seventeens of incomprehensible inky bullshit.

Tommy stood in front of the bulletin laughing for thirty straight seconds when he first walked in for his break. The fact that someone had printed out this garbage and still put in the effort to post them here was cracking him up. His coworkers, humorless as ever, were giving him strange looks for the fit of giggles he was in, so he popped the tab on a can of Sprite from the vending machine to try and calm down.

Distantly, he heard an unfamiliar, animated voice echo further down the hall. Right, the new guy was here today. The guy who was going to put on the fancy orange suit and risk his life for science. Tommy was supposed to be working on that project, too, making observations from behind a sheet of safety glass.

He wandered down the hall toward the voice, figuring he might as well be polite and introduce himself. Not a lot of folks around here liked to talk much, and he could hear the discouraged faltering in the man’s words as he tried and failed to make conversation. Maybe it would be nice to have a talker around. Keep things interesting.

When he rounded the corner, Tommy had to pause and regain his bearings. So the new guy was cute. He had dark curly hair, a beard that was neat-but-not-too-neat, and a charming smile that showed off his dimples. His face was framed by a tasteful pair of glasses and he walked like he had places to go, people to see. Friendly, but studious. Tommy wanted to derail him from his quest immediately.

“Hello,” he cast a greeting down the hall.

The new guy paused mid-stride, somewhat startled. “Hello.” What was his name again? Freeman? He was an MIT boy, if Tommy recalled correctly, a physicist who had published a thesis that was so long Tommy had stopped paying attention halfway through the title. A man of many words. A man of too many words, perhaps.

Oh, shit, he was walking over here.

“I’m new,” Tommy blurted, even though he wasn’t. Good job, idiot.

“You’re new here? Me, too, I think,” the new guy replied, brow wrinkled studiously as he approached.

I think? Maybe they were both idiots. Tommy gave the man a quick up-and-down look. He was a big guy, but well built. Athletic. Hard to believe he transferred from the education sector.

“What’s your name?” Tommy asked.

“Gordon Freeman.”

Right, that was it. Tommy remembered looking at his file now. “My name’s Tommy,” he told him, his grip tight on his Sprite can.

Gordon Freeman raised his eyebrows, like he was surprised someone had bothered to talk to him. “Tommy?” he repeated.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, Tommy,” he went on. “Are you - what department are you in? Where are you supposed to be right now? You headed to the break room?”

Wow, this guy asked a lot of questions. He looked adorably lost. Tommy could point him in the right direction, but his mention of the break room reminded him of the nonsense on the wall in there, and he fought down a snort of laughter. Maybe the new guy would appreciate the signs.

“Yeah,” he affirmed. “I like to read the billboards there.”

‘Billboards’ wasn’t right. It was a bulletin board; Tommy caught it as soon as the words were out of his mouth. But it made Gordon laugh in a puzzled sort of way, and it was such a lovely sound that Tommy left it.

“The - the billboards? In the break room?” he asked in bewilderment. “Are they - putting ads up in there?”

Tommy was fighting back another snicker. “Yeah,” he said, turning away to hide the grin on his face. “Follow me.”

He led the new guy down the hall and to the break room, passing the greasy microwave and the gaggle of disinterested coworkers. Man, those posters were even funnier the second time. Tommy wanted to find the person who had tacked them up and shake their hand.

“Oh, is this what you were talking about?” Gordon asked, realization dawning as he saw the bulletin. He cast Tommy a prompting look. “The billboards ?” He asked, politely giving him a chance to correct himself.

That was considerate of him, Tommy thought, but he stuck to his guns - he was already too far in the bit. “Yeah, tell me what it says,” he threw back.

He was going to pop a blood vessel trying not to laugh, and Gordon could clearly tell by now. Letting out a breathy chuckle, he glanced up at the bulletin and played along.

“Yeah, I can’t read it either, dude,” Gordon said, dark eyes passing over the nonsense in front of him. “Maybe he can?” He tossed the question to one of the scientists loitering nearby, who muttered something rude under his breath. Gordon turned an unflappable smile back to Tommy, ignoring his coworker. “Yeah, maybe.”

Oh, Tommy liked this one. He wanted to keep him for himself. Nobody around here appreciated his jokes, much less ran with them.

“I don’t know what it - can you read?” Gordon went on.

It took Tommy a half second to parse if he was serious or not, and realized the question was a continuation of the joke. He mimed a studious pose, taking a thoughtful sip from his Sprite as he pretended to decipher the clouds of ink.

“I’m trying, but it’s very - I -” He was breaking - he couldn’t help it - snorting out a laugh.  “The person who printed all these papers really fucked up.”

Gordon was grinning fully now, shading his eyes from a nonexistent sun as he glanced back at the notice board. “I think they used like, one DPI? Y’know - you know how a printer works? Like, dots per inch? I don’t think they got any - like - the right amount of dots - I can’t read any of this.” He gave another prompting glance to Tommy, clearly enjoying their little vignette. “What do you make of that?”

This man spoke like a machine gun, and it delighted Tommy. The words just came firing out of him with barely any comprehensive thread between them, a steady stream of consciousness straight from his brain to his mouth. It was wonderful. He shook his head in disbelief that someone so fun had just fallen into his lap.

“I don’t know,” was all he could reply.

Still chuckling, but still in a hurry, Gordon did his best to excuse himself politely. He had a test chamber to get to. “Are you staying here?” he asked.

Tommy wanted to follow him, but he had no real reason to outside of his attraction to the guy, so he nodded. “I’m on,” he faltered, glancing down at the Sprite in his hand, “lunch break.”

Gordon’s laughter staccatoed his farewell. “Okay, we’ll see - I’ll s- I’ll catch you later, Tommy.”

Tommy was grinning like a fool as he watched him leave the break room. Charming guy. Hilarious. Sharp as a tack, if a little scattered. His laugh sounded like bells ringing and he loved it.

“I drink soda for lunch,” he called down the hall after him, one last attempt to pull that laugh from him before he saw him again.

Gordon must not have heard him, because he didn’t reply. That was fine. They’d cross paths again. Tommy would be watching him very closely as they ran the test today.

---

The test chamber in the Anomalous Materials department wasn’t Tommy’s favorite place in the world. He thought the spectrometer was grandiose in a spooky sort of way, its rotating claw hanging menacingly from the ceiling. He was glad Gordon Freeman was the one going in the barrel instead of him.

Everyone who worked down here had a grim purpose about them, and it weirded Tommy out. There were many times during his research that he tried to lighten the mood, but most of his jokes sailed over his coworkers’ heads. Or they were rudely ignoring him. At this point, either option was plausible.

He stood behind the reinforced safety glass alongside the other members of the research team. All of them were older than he was, the majority born in the facility, which Tommy concluded was the only quality they really had in common. He was well qualified for the job with his range of experience and his Ph.D. in nuclear engineering, but whispers of nepotism still sometimes circulated.

Tommy ignored them for the most part. Everyone who worked for Black Mesa was stuck living in an underground bunker regardless of pay grade, so it wasn’t like he was any better off than his peers in that regard. He didn’t make anyone call him Dr. Coolatta, either, because that just sounded fucking stupid. Dr. Thomas Coolatta? Please. Tommy was fine.

He was zoning out, lost in his thoughts, when he noticed a blip in on the ground floor of the test chamber. The blip took the form of a short man in a blue uniform, and suddenly Tommy was very uneasy. He knew that guy.

Seconds later, the doors to the chamber whirred open, and Gordon Freeman strolled in. Tommy watched him gesticulate angrily at the security guard who had spontaneously manifested inside the spectrometer. He put two and two together and figured Benrey had been following Gordon for some time, riling the other man up as he was so wont to do to people. This could be bad. He reached over on the control panel and hit the broadcast button on the mic, ignoring the murmurs of indignation from his colleagues.

“Hello?”

Both of the men in the barrel whipped their heads up to the control room. Tommy raised a hand in a grim wave.

Benrey cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered back at him, voice grating in his ears, shivering down his spine. “Tommy!”

He had to handle this carefully. The entity in the chamber with Gordon was an anomaly that Tommy should have considered, but he hadn’t predicted Benrey would have latched himself onto the new guy so quickly. He darted a glance to his coworkers, who were all staring at Tommy expectantly, and then down to the scene below. There were things Tommy knew that the others weren’t allowed to know.

His hand was still on the intercom. “Gordon,” he began carefully.

“Tommy,” Benrey cut him off, a threat in his voice. The two of them stared one another down through the pane of glass, unspoken words passing between them. Finally, he sighed heavily. “Hi,” he muttered.

“Tommy, do you know this man?” the scientist beside him asked.

He was an older gentleman, the product of an experiment that probably had a name at one point, but had gone by ‘Bubby’ for as long as Tommy could remember. Tommy would have thought the nickname was a joke if Bubby had a single humorous bone in his body, which he didn’t. Well, unless he counted his humerus. Which he also didn’t.

Tommy killed the mic and fixed Bubby with a careful look. “He’s not a man,” he said without elaboration. He didn’t have to. Bubby could connect the dots well enough on his own.

On Tommy’s left, another colleague jockeyed beside him to hit the intercom button. He was a cheerful fellow, empty-eyed and cotton-headed. Tommy recalled that his name was Coomer. He also recalled that brawl in the dining facility a while back where he had knocked a fully grown man out with one punch.

“You know, he didn’t bring his passport,” Dr. Coomer informed the team brightly over the loudspeaker, even though they were all standing in the same room with him.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “I heard you don’t have your passport,” he said dryly down to Gordon.

But the new guy was occupied with the entity standing next to him, gesturing in agitation as he spoke with him, pointing to the chamber door. Probably was trying to get Benrey out of there. Worried about his safety. It would be a reasonable request made by any decent human, one that should have been backed up by the rest of the staff.

Several pairs of eyes were watching Tommy, knowing his security clearance, waiting for his decision. Benrey would be fine; he couldn’t be killed by any normal means. Tommy’s concern was for Gordon, bright orange and oblivious in his HEV suit below. If something went wrong, he would be paying for it.

He looked at Bubby again. “Standard procedure,” he told him.

If Benrey was up to no good, which he almost always was, Tommy could stop him. He could blink down there in an instant and kick him into another dimension for a while. Not fun, not easy, but he could do it. He moved closer to the glass, deciding to watch and wait.

The two figures dicked around in the test chamber for an insufferable amount of time, a fact that Tommy would find incredibly funny if it weren’t Benrey in there with Gordon. His colleagues were backing up Tommy’s decision, assuring Dr. Freeman that this was all normal and part of the process, while Gordon grew increasingly agitated. Poor guy. He had no idea what was going on.

Tommy decided to throw him a bone, leaning into the mic again. “Gordon?” he prompted. “Do you see the next step?”

The grinding of machinery in the room drowned out most of his response, but Tommy caught what he needed to. Push the shit into the thing. So easy an MIT grad could do it.

“Yes,” he affirmed.

“Very carefully,” Bubby said seriously over Tommy’s shoulder, miffed that he had been nudged away from the mic.

“Very carefully,” Tommy agreed. “Slower than molasses drips off a spoon,” he added, simply because he couldn’t help himself, ignoring the puzzled looks the other scientists passed in his direction.

He couldn’t really hear Gordon’s laughter, but he saw the man’s shoulders shake with mirth and his even teeth flashing that pretty smile. Tommy grinned. Worth it.

That was the only bright spot Tommy got to have before everything went to shit. Benrey was hassling Gordon mercilessly, Bubby was grinding insults into the mic, and Dr. Freeman was losing his mind. Tommy was standing there, taut like a mousetrap. Laser focused on Benrey. He was not paying attention to Gordon, or the glass shattering in front of him, or the error alarm blaring over the loudspeakers.

He did, however, catch the flashbang of light from the spectrometer. The ghost-white form of Bubby vaulting over the console and through the broken window. He tore his eyes away from his target for a second, and then there was electricity raising his hair and voltage shivering through the building and an acid-green shockwave flashing over all of them.

Shit. Fuck. Shit. Benrey was nowhere to be seen. Tommy gripped the edge of the window, ignoring the slice of broken glass into his palms. Bubby looked… utterly dead, in a crumpled heap below him. Shock was forcing a waterfall of panicked words out of Gordon as he watched everything crash down around his head.

The machine groaned and surged outward. Tommy had seconds to choose: find where the fuck the entity went and snap him out of existence, or shield the new guy before he turned into a smoking crater on the ground.

Tommy made a decision. The world ripped apart.

---> Chapter 2

[softyoongiionly]

Tea and Tourniquets-The Truth ☕️

There is something living in the forest beyond your village, something evil, something ancient. The only known survivor of this evil is a reclusive healer by the name of Min Yoongi. Rumor has it though, that the herbalist hermit may, in fact, be the evil himself.

Summary: You were told never to venture into the forest after dark. Stories of people going missing and, an ancient darkness, keep most of your quaint village paralyzed with fear. However, after another disappearance, you decide to do the unthinkable and, search for the answers yourself.

The darkness is real…and it’s alive.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Genre: Supernatural! Yoongi, Fantasy Au, Tsundere! Yoongi, fluff, angst, smut throughout the story, slightly spooky

Warnings: slight spooky-ness? lmao thats not a word, references to death/dark themes, future smut, moderate angst

A/N: In this chapter Y/N finally learns the answers to all of her burning questions. Unfortunately, this only makes things more complicated...

^^^Read Chapter One here x^^^

“I apologize…” Yoongi’s crisp voice fills the space of his kitchen effortlessly.

He’s leaning against the doorway; fingers pulling the cuffs of his sleeves over his hands to shield him from the cool breeze coming through the window.

You’ve been in his kitchen for quite some time now and, have spent the last two hours crying and, exploring the room.

You didn’t want to leave it. You didn’t want to face him again, his words had destroyed you.

Yoongi can feel himself growing more and more nervous, his chest tightening with every passing second of your silence.

“Hu-I mean….Y/N?” He calls to you, trying to soften his tone significantly

You sniffle, wiping the remnants of your tears on your sweater, still not turning to face him, “My parents were not naïve and foolish Yoongi. They were brave and selfless…”

He nods, pursing his lips, prepared to take the blame for his behavior, “I was out of line, I’m truly sorry…you have to understand, I…” Yoongi sighs, agony present on his pointy face, he takes a cautious step towards you, “I’ve spent so many years alone, my social skills are lacking….severely. What I said, was wrong, inexcusable but, I assure you, I didn’t mean it…”

Another sniffle and, Yoongi’s chest grows tighter at the thought of making you cry.

“How many more days until you take me back?”

His eyes close, sensing your distance, “Roughly two and a half days…your foot is healing rather well…”

You nod, turning towards him and, Yoongi feels the tension in his chest finally snap as he gets a look at your swollen eyes and dejected expression.

“I’ll stay out of your way until then…” Using the counter as support, you make the move to leave your seat before Yoongi pipes up again, desperation in his tone.

“Don’t you want the truth?” He insists, tempted to reach out to you, tempted to beg for your forgiveness…

You shrug, peering at him, the tone of your voice soured by sadness, “What’s the point? You said it yourself, it wouldn’t make a difference.”

“I don’t know if it would...” He concedes and, his tone is softer than ever, “but, it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t know. Please, I’m…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Y/N. I should have never spoken ill of your parents. If they were anything like you they…”

At this, you perk up slightly, sensing the beginnings of a compliment. Yoongi struggles momentarily, letting a breath leave his lips before he peers into your eyes.

“…they must have been great.”

Your brows rise, “I find it hard to believe that you think I’m great Yoongi, considering the way you’ve treated me so far…”

A humorless laugh rushes past his lips.

“Yes well, my kind isn’t exactly known for our emotional displays. We aren’t taught such things…”

Slowly, you shift back onto the barstool, looking at Yoongi expectantly, your heartrate increasing at the thought of finally learning the truth.

“What are you known for then?”  

Yoongi nods, taking a deep breath before moving towards the barstool beside you, “May I?”

“It’s your house…” You point out, sustaining your distant demeanor.

He chuckles, nodding at your response before hopping up and, facing you.  

He looks nervous, a stark contrast to his previous behavior.

“Before I answer your question, I have to explain something to you…” Yoongi begins, shaking a bit of his messy hair out of his face. “The universe is an enormous place; some believe that it’s never ending, there are other worlds beyond the one you know…”  

You keep silent, eager for him to get to the point.  

“However, there are worlds that co-exist in a cluster of sorts; dimensions that are related in some way. There are two in particular that reside very close to your world. “

“Heaven and hell?” You guess but, Yoongi shakes his head, his patience prepared for the confusion you might experience.

“They are called many different names by your kind but, no human has ever managed to get it quite right. Although, the concept is somewhat similar. There is a world known as Paradise, it is where those who lived good lives ascend to after they have passed. The concept of religion in the human world is largely inaccurate, there are no requirements for entering Paradise aside from the soul, human or otherwise, being decent during their time on Earth.”

You attempt to take in the surreal bit of information and, refrain from asking the 400 questions that just appeared in your brain and, settle on one instead, “…and the other world?”  

“The other world is known as Beneath.; a place that hosts darker souls: some of which are corrected and, some of which are destroyed. “

There is another increase in your heartrate but, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t captivated.  

“That’s where you’re from isn’t it?”  

At this Yoongi chuckles humorlessly, the slight smirk on his mouth not reaching his eyes, “I don’t really give off the Paradise essence do I?”

A smile tugs at your mouth and, you shake your head shamelessly,

“Not at all.”

“There are creatures who serve in both worlds. Contrary to human interpretation, Beneath and Paradise aren’t at war, we both play our part and, we work together to ensure balance in this world and, the afterworld. The last known human in my family died over 2,000 years ago and, for many years, we have served Beneath.”  

“So, you’re not human anymore? Or you were human? I don’t understand…”

Yoongi shakes his head, slightly regretting that he has to be the one to explain all of this to you, “There are different species that live in these worlds: humans, vampires, werewolves, pixies, mermaids, most of the supernatural entities you’ve heard of. When they die, they either ascend to Paradise or they don’t. If they are assigned to be corrected in Beneath, they must undergo a rehabilitation of the soul, to pay for the misgivings on Earth. Once that is accomplished, they are free to go. However, some souls, like my family, choose to stay and serve in Beneath. They evolve over time to become less and less prone to the clumsiness of being their initial species until finally, they reach a heightened state. It is similar to what happens in Paradise. Those who choose to serve in protecting the balance become empowered by the universe itself…”

“Like angels and demons?”  

Yoongi rolls his eyes, “I’m not a fan of the verbiage but, yes I suppose that is what humans call us. Although, in the afterlife, we work towards the same goal: angels and demons work together. My kind don’t go around terrorizing humans and, trying to possess their souls. We do the messier work in the afterworld, the work no one else wants to do.”

“Then what was that bit about you consuming human souls then?” You accuse, pointing your finger at him

He chuckles but, this time the smile reaches his eyes, you try not to notice how sweet it is…

“Ah yes well, that was to scare you. I can assure you, no one can consume a soul, it doesn’t work like that…”

“But Jimin said-“

Yoongi cuts you off, a smirk on his face now, “Jimin is a rotten little siren who would lie through his teeth just for the fun of it. He’s harmless though, he was a bit of deviant when he was alive but, nothing like what he told you. Sirens are mischievous creatures and, while yes, some of them consume human flesh, most of them pirate money and other goods, they feed off of all types of energies... He did tell you the truth about one thing though…”

“What?”  

“…that I am someone they fear…”

The breath you’re holding catches in your throat but, you don’t lose your expectant expression.  

“The souls who don’t ascend, are sent to the court of Beneath. There, they stand before a judge, known as The Reaper, and receive their fate. They are either assigned correction or their soul is destroyed forever…” He pauses and, flit his black eyes to yours, “I am the one who decides…”

You nod in understanding, biting your lip to ease the tension you feel in your bones.

“The Reaper?”

Yoongi nods solemnly, trying to gauge your reaction, “Yes."

“What are you doing here then? Shouldn’t you be down there…in Beneath?”

“Well,” He breathes, discomfort taking over his face, “that is a different issue entirely. My father, he had this post before I did. He worked as the Reaper for hundreds of years before he finally retired to Paradise. He wasn’t…” He struggles to find the proper word, “…very popular in Beneath.  He was strict and showed very little mercy towards those who stood before him.  He believed very few souls actually qualified for correction and, destroyed…millions of them.”  

The pain on Yoongi’s face is becoming obvious now; you can tell this information is difficult to share.  

“When I took the post, I wanted things to be different. I didn’t want to send souls to destruction unless they lived truly wicked lives. My father didn’t approve of my methods but, for a long time, it was working. You can imagine, Beneath is not a very popular place of work. It doesn’t have the same charm as Paradise but, souls were getting corrected left and right and, more and more of them were staying behind to serve in Beneath. “  

He looks out the bay window over the kitchen sink, his beautiful features ridden with imminent signs of despair. You brace yourself for the rest of his explanation.  

“There was a man who came to me one day, roughly three centuries ago.” Yoongi still hasn’t turned his gaze back to you, not willing to face you, “There was nothing striking about him at first but, I could tell he wasn’t human. According to his record, he had been a sorcerer who spent most of his life dabbling in dark magic and, using his powers to benefit himself. He pleaded with my council and I, he told us he had been lead down the wrong path. There was nothing on his record that struck me as particularly evil; it mainly consisted of excessive gambling and con-artistry.  I had never seen anyone look so terrified…”  

He takes a deep breath, his hand coming up to rub behind his neck, his gaze still far away from you.  

“My council and I deliberated on him for some time but, finally I…I convinced them to save him. He was assigned a harsh sentence, 22 years but, he seemed overjoyed with our judgement. When souls pass on, they are able to travel freely between our worlds and, the human world however, when a soul is undergoing correction, they must be accompanied with their guardian to ensure they aren’t meddling with unsuspecting humans.”

“Wait, when souls travel to the human world, can humans interact with them? Wouldn’t that mean that death is kind of temporary?” You interject, trying your best to comprehend all of the information.

Yoongi finally turns back to you, smirking fondly, his eyes holding something you can’t quite decipher, “Humans can’t interact with departed souls directly. However, there are particular humans who can see  them, humans like you for instance…”

You feel a certain way under Yoongi’s current gaze but for now you push it aside, taking a moment to get another question answered, “Why were you only surprised when I could see Jimin? Aren’t you also a departed soul?”

“Well, this is where things get a little complicated. Life continues after death. My family has lived and continued to reproduce in Beneath for centuries. I was born there so, my soul has never departed. Those of us who were born from evolved families, the families who serve the afterlife, we are afforded the powers our parents have and, we are taught from an early age to refine them. One of these abilities happens to be human interaction. We are considered responsible enough to be seen by the human race as it’s expected that we won’t interfere with their world excessively.”  

“That makes sense…I’m sorry I interrupted your story, you were saying something about the man not being able to come to the human world without a guide.”  

Yoongi nods, taking another deep breath, “The man was assigned to one of my best correctors and, one of my…dearest friends Hoseok. If it weren’t for his dirty mind, Hoseok would have fit perfectly into Paradise but, his family has also served Beneath for centuries. He is…” He takes another breath, a much shakier one, “…he is remarkable.”

He begins picking at his nails, looking down at his hands as he continues, “As far as I knew, things were going well. Hoseok was reporting great progress and, I could visibly see the man’s soul becoming lighter and lighter. I considered it a huge success until…”

The picking ceases and, Yoongi closes his eyes for a moment, looking ashamed, “…until he escaped.”

You want to reach out to him but, you’re not sure if you can, instead you inquire with a gentle tone,  

“Escaped to where?”

“The human world. Your forest, the one that borders your village, it’s the launch pad we use to travel between our worlds and, the human world. It’s a powerful place and, it knows whether or not a soul has permission to travel. However, this man found a way to slip through undetected. Once he arrived, his true intentions were revealed…”

His gaze is back to the window but, he can feel your eyes on him and, the guilt he’s tried to suppress for so long is overflowing in is chest.  

“There is a spell known to only the most powerful sorcerers, it’s so wicked that we are discouraged from saying its name. The spell can only be performed by a sorcerer who has passed on to the afterworld and, somehow made it back. Once this is completed and, if the spell is done correctly, the sorcerer will be granted with universal power. When this man reached the forest, he attempted the spell and, it backfired immensely. He was powerful enough to deceive us but, not powerful enough to complete the spell. It destroyed his soul and, left The Nahbbun behind. They are a manifestation of his greed and, his wickedness.”

You nod, feeling some relief that you finally know the truth but, the devastation on Yoongi’s face distracts you from any positivity.  

“When word got back to us that the man had escaped, people began to question my authority. I didn’t blame them. I still don’t. I should have known better, I shouldn’t have trusted so easily. I spoke with my council and, decided to step down temporarily to manage the damage the sorcerer inflicted. I vowed to them that I would find a cure and, return home but, as you might have guessed, I have yet to be successful and because of this, the portal between our worlds has been temporarily closed. This curse has inflicted so much damage…I will never be able to make up for what I’ve done but, I will spend the rest of eternity trying.”  

He looks as though he’s about to cry so, you finally give in to the urge to touch him and, place your hand over his. His skin is much warmer than you expect and, you marvel at the smooth texture of his fingers as you curl your own around his.  

Yoongi jolts slightly at your touch, the sensation completely foreign to him, he feels as though he’s been shocked.

“Yoongi, what happened here is not your fault…” You assure sincerely, trying to get him to look at you

“It is Y/N, I am responsible for ensuring that the right souls are destroyed so, they can’t hurt anyone anymore and, look what’s happened I-“

You cut him off, “You couldn’t have known what would happen, you were just trying to give him a second chance. You can’t put all of this on yourself, not when you had the best intentions. He fooled you and, he fooled your council too…there is no crime in seeing the best in people, it’s a great quality to have.”

Yoongi decides that he wants to have your hand on his for the next thousand years but, he pulls away instead because, denying his own desires is kind of something he’s been taught to do.

“But, your parents, the young boy, Y/N they are all dead because of me, because I can’t find a cure…because I couldn’t do my job.”

“The blood is not on your hands Yoongi. This was the work of someone evil. Besides, you’ve been serving my village for years, curing the sick. You’ve saved so many lives, both mine and my grandfathers…you can’t diminish all of your work…”

A breathy laugh leaves his lips then, glossy eyes flitting up to yours, “As much as I appreciate the sentiment, your latter statement isn’t entirely true…”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t save your grandfathers life Y/N, I tried to kill him…” He chuckles, his dark eyes alight with a memory. Yoongi notices your apprehension, holding a hand up to you before you can interject, “He didn’t meet me as a young boy. He came looking for me when he found out I left my post.”

“Wait but-“

Yoongi chuckles again shaking his head, “Your grandfather isn’t from the human world Y/N, he has served in the afterworld alongside my family for many years. He was a friend of mine and, when I left Beneath, he came to the human world to look for me, fearing that I had made a mistake. He came to my cottage and, because I was so wound up at the time, I nearly killed him with my defensive spell.” Yoongi smirks at the memory, clearly holding a bit of fondness for your grandfather, “When he came to, I apologized and, we talked for quite some time. He couldn’t convince me to come home but, he decided to stay in the human world for a while to watch over me….”

Your mouth is ajar as Yoongi finishes up yet another explanation, “So, what you’re saying is…my grandfather isn’t 71?”

For the first time since you’ve met Yoongi, you hear him laugh: a full bellied, rickety, head thrown back laugh; it’s a pretty beautiful sound.

You can’t help but, laugh along with him. The sheer volume and complexity of the information has made the room so heavy over the past hour, a joke, no matter how ridiculous is much needed.  

Yoongi wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, shaking his head at you, his laughter winding down, “Not quite, no. Your grandfather is older than me. He’s part of a different bloodline in Beneath, he’s served for a least a millennia...”

“What about my mother? Was she like him too?”  

“As far as I know, your grandfather lived a solitary life up until he met your grandmother. He was always supposed to go back to Beneath but, he stayed to raise a family with her.” Yoongi sighs, “I warned him that if he didn’t share certain things with her, their time together would be limited but, he never wanted to taint her human experience. Your mother would have contained a small portion of your grandfather’s abilities which she may have passed to you; that would explain your ability to see Jimin…”  

A deep breath is pulled from your chest and, let out slowly through your lips. You feel very overwhelmed by the truth but, you’re grateful that you have it.  

Looking at Yoongi, you realize you may have been wrong about him. He wasn’t a rude, creepy, shut in; he was a man with an immense burden, a burden he isn’t sure he can fulfill. You don’t really think as you slide off of the barstool and wrap your arms around Yoongi’s narrow shoulders.  

“I’m sorry…”  You murmur into his neck, causing a shiver to run down Yoongi’s spine.

He’s never been hugged before…

“Uhh-“ He tenses up at your gesture, fists locking up at his waist but, you don’t take offense. You don’t imagine he does a lot of hugging, “…for what?”

“For everything…for all of the things you’ve had to endure, alone. I had no idea…” You give him the best hug you have in you, knowing full well that he wasn’t going to reciprocate.

The sentiment touches Yoongi’s heart but, the sentiment combined with your embrace is really doing a number on his resolve; he isn’t sure how to act.  

“An apology isn’t necessary…” He grumbles but he doesn’t move away from you, not just yet.

You don’t respond but, slowly you pull away, holding his gaze for a moment, your hands still resting on his shoulders.

“You’ve done so much for the universe. Don’t let this be your defining moment.” You urge, offering a small smile.  

Only 3-4 seconds pass before Yoongi feels heat upon his cheeks; he decides it’s a good time to move away from you, lest he burst into flames…

“You’re…uh-“ He scratches behind his ear, feeling very small all of the sudden, “you’re a lot like your grandfather…”

Fondness blooms in your heart and, it’s not just at Yoongi’s comment about your grandfather.  

“Why is that?”  

He smirks, more to himself as he taps his fingers nervously against the counter, “The two of you are quite whimsical.”

A puff of air leaves your nose, “I believe you used a different word earlier…”

The fond smirk doesn’t leave his face. Yoongi admires your wit; it’s one of the first things he observed about you.  

He concedes, holding his hands up, “I envy your ability to have a positive outlook on the future. I shouldn’t have described it as naivety.”  

“I can understand why, you’ve lived a very long time, I’m sure I wouldn’t be so optimistic if I’ve endured what you have…” You sympathize as your eyes flit to the length and elegance of Yoongi’s fingers; you wish you didn’t notice things like that…

“I haven’t lived that long…” He grumbles, resisting the urge to smile when you giggle at his response.

“You’re seven hundred and twenty seven…”  

He rolls his eyes, “That’s nothing compared to people in my world, there are beings so old that they don’t even bother counting anymore. I’m practically an infant…”

You bite back a fond smile as you pat his shoulder gently, “I can see the resemblance.”  

Yoongi scoffs, his eyes widening in offense, “I don’t look like an infant, I’m just saying that I could be-oh wait…you’re doing that thing that humans do…the thing with the humor…”

A giggle bubbles past your lips, “The thing with the humor? You mean a joke?”  

His face turns up in revelation, “Ah yes, that’s the word, a joke, you’re joking…”

“Do you not…joke in Beneath?”  

He shrugs, his head tilting back and forth in consideration, “It’s not a common practice no, Beneath isn’t known for its frivolous displays of emotion, most of us are quite serious as we have very important jobs to do.”

“Sounds bleak…”  

He chuckles, chewing on the inside of his lips as he nods, “It can be.” His eyes flit over your body momentarily before taking note of how long you’ve been speaking, “You need to eat soon and, I need to redress the wound across your ribs…”

You nod, feeling the gnawing pull of hunger in your lower gut; you haven’t been eating as much since you’ve been in Yoongi’s presence but, now that some of your curiosity has been sated, you feel as though you haven’t eaten in weeks.  

“I’m starving…” You lament, holding your stomach in demonstration and, Yoongi quickly nods in response, moving off of the barstool and around the counter.  

“I’ll make you something…there’s another change of clothes in the den. I’ll tend to your wound after you’re finish dressing and, then we will eat.”  

You resist the fond smile attempting to inch its way onto your face as Yoongi pushes up the sleeves of his peasant blouse, his eyes narrowing in focus when he tries to figure out what to make you.  

“Hey…” You murmur, his dark eyes flitting to yours, “…do you think my grandfather did this on purpose?”  

Something flashes in Yoongi’s eyes as he ponders your question, a ghost of a smirk edging at his lips, “You think he sent you here?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me…” You laugh, feeling a tightness in your chest, “he’s a mischievous man…”

Yoongi chuckles, immediately nodding in agreement, “I suppose it wouldn’t surprise me either. At the very least, he knew I would find you. He would never have sent you to your death like that. Although, I’m not quite sure why he would send you to me; this forest is no place for humans…”

You smirk, moving towards the door, “Maybe he thought you needed a friend.”

And with that, you shut the door but, not before you catch Yoongi blushing furiously at your comment.  

“We’re not friends…” He grumbles to himself but, as soon as you leave the room, he smiles, gums and all.  

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Yoongi spends quite a bit of time in the kitchen before he beckons you to dinner. He’s gone all out, roasted meat, steamed vegetables which are seasoned to perfection, an herb and garlic sauce that is so exquisite you could have eaten it all on its own, freshly baked bread and, a batch of apple rose puffs with pink lemonade frosting.

It was, without a doubt, the most delicious meal you’ve ever had the pleasure of eating. You spent most of the meal complimenting Yoongi on his cooking abilities and, although he was back to his old grumpy self, you caught him smiling a few times at your comments. The energy between the two of you has shifted significantly but, Yoongi still has a firm grasp on his guard.  

After dinner, he leads you into the den, explaining that as soon as the sky goes completely black, he will be leaving the cottage as he usually does every night.  

You take this opportunity to ask another question, “Where do you go every night?”  

As he ensures that you’re comfortably seated on the couch, he purses his lips, deciding whether or not to tell you, “Since the portal is closed, the departed souls must wait to be ushered into the afterlife manually, versus travelling through the portal themselves. Every night, I open the portal to allow them entry. I spend the rest of the night trying various spells and incantations…to try and exterminate the Nahbbun…”  

A bit of panic creeps into your stomach, “Wait…isn’t that dangerous? You go out there alone?”

Yoongi chuckles at the panic in your voice, a rather arrogant smirk finding its way onto his mouth, “The Nahbbun can’t harm me; they can only feed from human energy. The only aspect that makes my time in the forest so difficult is that they often hide from me…”

This amazes you. You’ve never seen anything more terrifying in your life and, the fact that Yoongi has the ability to send such creatures into hiding…it really affirms his power.  

“Have you ever managed to exterminate them?”  

He nods, his eyes flitting eagerly to the door, “Of course, I’ve killed thousands over the years but, it doesn’t seem to help. It’s like they’re reproducing...”  

His last comment sparks something within your brain; the mystery of the forest has always intrigued you but, now that you’re aware of the logistics, your curiosity only burns brighter.  

“Get some rest hu-“ He catches himself, chuckling as you shoot a glare his way, “Get some rest Y/N, I think you’ve had enough excitement for the day…”

With a defeated sigh, you nod, resisting the urge to argue with him; he’s already told you so much.  

He grabs his cloak off of the coatrack by the door, slinging it over his small frame. Yoongi eyes flit to the staircase, “Jimin! I’m leaving for the night, Y/N will be resting so, I expect you to be on your best behavior, especially after what happened last night…”

At Yoongi’s command, you hear a twinkling giggle, followed by the pitter-patter of feet before a voice appears behind you, “You should lower your expectations my lord but, considering the fact that you went and told her the truth about everything, I’m able to have much fun with her anymore am I?”

Yoongi shoots a pointed look Jimin’s way, “You’re not here for fun, you’re here to learn. Did you finish the work I assigned to you?”

Jimin rolls his eyes, leaning carelessly against the back of the couch, “Yes your majesty. I finished it this morning whilst you were groveling at Y/N’s feet.”

The siren snickers, eyes shifting from a dark brown to a brilliant blue; he really is such an interesting creature.  

Yoongi rolls his eyes, pointing a finger to the top of the stairs, “Back to your room before I turn you into a cat permanently…”

Jimin just laughs, almost manically, before blowing you a kiss and, running up the stairs so fast that it makes your head spin.  

“Can you really do that?” You turn your attention towards Yoongi who is currently shaking his head at Jimin’s antics.

He turns to you, with a smirk on his mouth, “I can do whatever I want.”

“Ugh ok…” You wince at how arrogant he is before a bit of nerves settle into the pit of your stomach. “Be careful alright?”

Yoongi feels a tug at his heart but as usual, he ignores it and, chooses to shake his head, “I’ll be fine Y/N. Make sure you’re resting…”

With that, he leaves you alone in the den, closing the door briskly behind him. A sigh comes careening past your lips as you flop back onto the couch.  

There is a bit of regret creeping into the deepest part of your gut. You had been begging Yoongi for the truth ever since you stepped foot into his cottage but, now that you know, you’re plagued with an entirely different issue.  

Along with a major reality crisis, you’re also dealing with the urge to solve the mystery behind the Nahbbun. Whilst Yoongi did an excellent job at explaining the mechanisms of the universe, he didn’t really go into detail regarding his conquest to destroy the seemingly demonic creatures in the forest.

More than anything, you want to understand how someone as powerful as Yoongi still hasn’t managed to defeat, what is honestly, the waste product from a bad spell.  

These creatures aren’t powerful enough to withstand Yoongi’s spells and, yet they continue thriving. Taking lives, instilling fear, wiping out smaller ecosystems within the forest…it didn’t make any sense.

Yoongi did say that the spell the sorcerer performed is so powerful that one should refrain from saying its name, maybe it really is that damaging.

Just then, a noise sounds behind you, yanking you out of your subconscious. Upon whipping your head around, you spot an object laying in the middle of wooden floor.  

Eyeing it wearily, you decide that inspecting said object poses no real threat so, quickly and carefully, you tip toe over to the source of the noise.  

As you approach it, your heart accelerates in your chest before, feeling rather silly as you discover the fact that it’s only one of Yoongi’s many books.  

Although, you aren’t quite sure how it managed to fall off of the shelf, completely undisturbed...

It's what you’d expect, old, worn, bound with leather- however, as you look closer you’re met with a title that intrigues you:

“Territory for the Mad...” You whisper out loud to no one and, at the drop of the final syllable you practically jump out of your skin when you hear a door slam behind you.

The sound is menacing on its own but, coupled with Jimin’s maniacal giggle, its enough to make your blood run cold.

And just like that, the small sense of security you had managed to gain is ripped away from you.  

Because if Jimin’s upstairs and, you’re in the living room...

Who the hell just came in through the back door?

[orange-waterfalls]

Sleeping Beauty

Darkiplier x Wilford Warfstache

@grey-b0y ty for the request!(im sorry it took so long lol)

A/N: ight so. first time doin a ship. literally the best thing ive ever written. may like to do more. uhhhh Dark being an overworked bastard. Wilford being the caring boyf that he would be. Disney movies. If you couldn't already tell. Uhhhhh finished this in an hour, re-read it, may actually be the best thing I've ever made I'm ngl. Dark may be a bit OOC, but that's just cause he's a lil bit tired. uhhhhh yeah. Enjoy!

Requests are open

--

Dark let out a quiet sigh as he opened the door to his and Wilford’s house. He threw his suit jacket to the side with absolutely no fucks to give about where it landed. He stumbled through the house until he eventually landed in his office, plopping down in his chair and leaning back with a groan.

He had so much work he still had left to do, and it was already 9:00. He was so, so, so very tired. The egos had been especially annoying that week, all having the stupidest comments during meetings and refusing to shut up once they got started. Dark had noticed Wilford gave him a “look” whenever he saw the entity annoyed or angry. He didn’t want Wilford to worry, so he always brushed it off. In hindsight, it might have been a good idea to let Wil help him. They were in a relationship, after all. People are supposed to help those that they love. Dark never gave Wil much of a chance to do that. He felt bad for it at times.

Dark rubbed the bridge of his nose and yawned. He shook his head and cracked his neck and flexed his hands, trying to make himself more awake. “Trying” being the keyword here. He reached into his messenger bag and pulled out his laptop and computer mouse. He opened the laptop and opened a document of everything he was supposed to schedule, approve, and deny. He went through everything, the blue light illuminating his pale face, the bags under his eyes looking very prominent. Any person with eyesight and half a brain could see he was sleep-deprived and overworked.

He heard a noise come from somewhere in the house. He stopped clicking and raised his head a bit, trying to listen. Nothing else came. He shrugged lightly. He was probably just imagining things…

Probably…

Another noise. A THUMP. Louder this time. He took his hand away from the mouse and leaned back in his chair, watching the closed door of the office. He stared at it, waiting for another noise to show up.

The sound of shattered glass and Wilford cursing caused Dark to jump up out of his chair. He threw the door open and ran to the source of the noise.

“Wil!” He called as he stopped in the living room. The panicked look on his face died down into indifference and mild annoyance.

Wilford was laying on his back in the middle of the room, margarita glass in hand, with the window shattered and shards of glass surrounding him. He turned to Dark and smiled.

“Good evening, pumpkin!” He greeted joyfully. Dark exhaled deeply and walked over to Wilford. He had no problem with the glass because his shoes were still on. Wilford, apparently having some sort of supervision when it came to Dark, noticed this small fact. “Why do you have your shoes on? When did you get home?” Dark, ignoring the question, pulled Wilford to his feet.

“Where’s your key?” He asked, exasperated.

“Now, hold on. I asked you first. It’s not fair that I have to answer questions when you haven’t answered mine!” The reporter pouted. Dark rolled his eyes.

“Stuck in a meeting. Stuck in traffic. Got home a couple of minutes ago,” He sighed, “Where is your key, Wil?” Wilford looked around for a moment before his eyes landed on a clock. He let out an exaggerated gasp.

“Dark! It’s so late! You must be exhausted!” He said, cupping Dark’s face in his hands. He can’t help from melting into the touch of his favorite person.

“No, no, I’m fine, really,” Dark mumbled, obviously lying. Wilford frowned.

“Come along now, darling, you know you can’t lie to me,” He said, stepping a bit closer to him. He looked into Dark’s eyes while the entity avoided eye contact. Wilford huffed before his eyebrows raised and a smile formed on his lips. Dark noticed and furrowed his eyebrows

“What?” He asked, slightly worried. Wilford grabbed his hand and led him to their bedroom. Dark sighed.

“Wil, I don’t-” He was cut off by a T-shirt being thrown at his face. Dark, being extremely tired, didn’t process what had happened until he looked down and saw the shirt. He looked back up at Wilford, squinting a bit. Wilford had somehow already changed. He was wearing pink shorts and a white shirt with a rainbow on the front. Dark glanced down at the shirt and raised an eyebrow. Wilford cleared his throat.

“My eyes are up here, Darky-poo,” He teased. Dark would have blushed if he were less proud. Would have.

Dark rolled his eyes and picked up the shirt, ushering Wilford out. God knows how long into their relationship and Dark still refused to change in front of his boyfriend. Wilford shook his head and chuckled, heading into the kitchen.

--

He made two bowls of popcorn, knowing for a fact he would scarf down his in a matter of minutes. He walked into the living room. He heard creaking and looked back to see Dark walk in after him. The pale entity wore black boxers and the grey shirt that was thrown at him. Wilford smiled.

“What took so long, darling?” He asked sweetly. Dark scoffed at the third pet name that night.

“Resting my eyes,” he claimed. Wilford hummed, knowing it was a lie. He wouldn’t push it, though. Dark sighed. “What are we doing, Wil?”

“Watching Disney movies. Only the musicals, though,” Dark groaned.

“Wil-”

“Listen,” Wilford said, suddenly sounding serious. Dark closed his mouth. “I know you won’t listen to me when I tell you to rest. So, if you’re gonna stay awake, you might as well do something vaguely fun, right?” Dark smiled softly.

This person. This person loved him. This person cared about him more than anyone else did. And this person that cared about him was trying to help. Dark sighed, but not in an exasperated way. In an “I really can’t argue because a) I have nothing to argue and b) I kinda sorta really don’t wanna argue but I still wanna act like I do” kinda way. He shuffled his way over to the couch and plopped down next to Wilford, scooting as close to him as possible. Wilford grinned and settled himself.

“But do we have to do all of them?” Dark complained. Wilford stroked his mustache a bit.

“Well, no, but we gotta start somewhere.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you get to tell me which year to start from.”

“Last year.” That earned a small glare from Wilford. “Fine, fine… uh… 19...8...9?”

“The Little Mermaid it is!” Wilford said excitedly.

“Wait, you know all the years?”

“Of course I do! What do you think I am? Some sort of commoner?!” Dark slowly blinked at that wreck of a sentence and turned back to the TV screen. Wilford put an arm around Dark, who snuggled into the touch. Then, Wilford hit the play button on his remote.

--

Two movies later, Dark was out cold. They’d barely gotten through a third of “Newsies” before Wilford looked over and saw the entity sleeping. Wilford had been mindful enough to keep his singing voice to a minimum, and so Dark hadn’t woken up. Wilford wasn’t even sure how long he’d been asleep. When did he last look? Halfway through “Beauty and the Beast?” Aw, too bad. 30 more minutes and they would’ve started on “Aladdin”! Wilford shrugged and paused the film.

He gently shifted in his spot and lifted Dark into his arms. He slowly carried the “Sleeping Beauty”(shut up I’m funny) to their room. He gently laid Dark down on the bed, covering him with the blankets. Dark almost instantly cuddled into them. Wilford bit his lip as he stared down at his lover. Well, since they didn’t watch Sleeping Beauty…

Wilford gently leaned down and brushed a small curl out of Dark’s face. He gazed at his sleeping figure in admiration before leaning down further to connect their lips in a small kiss. Very small, more of a peck than a “kiss” kiss, but still. Dark slowly opened his eyes and blinked a few times as Wilford pulled away.

“Aw, Dark,” Wilford whispered, “I woke you with true love’s kiss!”

“You woke me, period,” Dark grumbled but stretched out his arms, tempting Wilford to go to bed.

Wilford climbed in next to Dark, spooning him. He held his arms tight around his partner’s torso, burying his nose into the entity’s hair and inhaling deeply.

“What are you doing?” Dark almost chuckled. Wilford smiled.

“I like your smell…”

“Oh?” Dark twisted around to look at Wilford. “And what do I smell like?”

“Home…” Wilford answered with a lovestruck look on his face. He could’ve sworn he saw a blush before getting hit in the face with a pillow. He laughed as Dark turned back around.

“You are the cheesiest person in the galaxy,” Dark said. Wilford’s lips curled into a grin as he snuggled up behind Dark again.

“Maybe…” He answered. Both of them sighed contently. “I love you…”

“I love you too...” Dark mumbled, still very tired, “Goodnight, Wil.” Wilford smiled as he tightened his grip ever-so-slightly.

“Good night, Sleeping Beauty…”

[soft---darkness]

Alone With The Dark- Bim Trimmer

Oof. I'm going to be honest with you guys, this ones rough. Its not the best thing I've ever made, but it was nice to write. I treated it a little bit like a vent and then twisted it into a sad story. Sorry about that lol. But I do think you guys will enjoy it! read the trigger warnings though!!

And again- this series is not going to be in any specific chronological order nor should you assume that future or past parts are related to each other. This is just me having some fun with the idea of Dark being the good guy

Trigger warnings- major character death, depressed thoughts, apathy/numbness, talk about death (stay safe my friends :) )

--------------------

Bim collapsed onto his bed with a shaky gasp, his nearly transparent body wavering for a moment when it touched the solid surface. His room was barely lit but it didn't make a difference to him- his vision was blurry anyway. He whimpered slightly as he curled in on himself, shivering violently. He felt a deep and chilling cold in his bones, but he didn't bother getting under the covers. He knew it wouldn't help, the cold he was feeling didn't come from the weather or from an open window. It was the chill of death and Bim knew that it was unavoidable.

He knew what was happening and what was going to happen. He had been aware of what was going to come from the first moment he had been able to see through his fingertips. A week ago, he had been eating a late lunch when he went to grab his glass of water and realized that the very tips of his fingers were slightly transparent. Horror had caused him to drop the glass and stand up, stomach rolling in fear. He had run out of the room and thrown himself over the toilet, retching violently. A terrifying thought had rushed to his brain as he trembled in the bathroom. He, Bim Trimmer, was fading away after just a month of existence.

He had known it was a possibility from the beginning, but that didn't make it any easier. Their creator, Markiplier, had a habit of introducing a new ego and then never making another video about them again. The fans would be excited by the premiere at first and they would make fan art and stories about the new ego...but eventually the hype died down and the figment would fall into the background.

This wasn't an issue for most figments and they would stay popular enough to survive until their next appearance, but it seemed that Bim wasn't one of the lucky ones. He hadn't been quite as popular as most when he had first appeared and the excitement of his character had faded quickly amongst the fan base. He had also been introduced just before Google, who had generated much more excitement with the fans. So of course, it was to be expected that Bim would fade quicker than most. He just wasn't expecting it so soon…

The others hadn't been surprised either. A lot of egos didn't make it through their first year, so everyone tried to not get too attached to new arrivals. And while seeing semi-transparent egos fade around them was a sad sight, those that did make it got used to it quickly. It was expected that no one really mention or talk about fading, as if not addressing it would help keep the unlucky alive. Bim as starting to think that it was just everyone's way of dealing with the guilt. Because he knew that the others were secretly relieved that it was him fading and not them.

But there was no point in being upset or angry at anyone now. He’d be gone soon anyway.

----------------------------------------------

Bim wasn't sure how much time had passed when he heard a soft knock at his door. It had to have been hours since he had curled up on his bed in a pathetic heap. A quick glance out the window told Bim that it was nighttime now, but how late it was he wasn't sure. But whatever time it was, there was no reason for anyone to be at his door. Everyone knew what was happening to him right now, and they had all individually decided to ignore him. It was just easier that way, to pretend like he didn't exist. He wouldn't tomorrow anyway.

Bim waited for the person or other ego to go away. He didn't feel like talking and he couldn't stand the thought of seeing someone's pity-filled face right now. Some of the egos that did care that he was fading always wore the same piteous face around him. Dr. Iplier and Silver were the most guilty of it. They had talked down to Bim during the few weeks of his fading as if he was a kicked puppy or sad child. But he wasn't a child. He was a grown and dying adult that didn't want their pity.

So Bim ignored the knock. In fact, he barely shifted from his balled position, sans the constant tremors that were running through his wavering body. He stayed still and listened for the expected sound of retreating footsteps to disappear down the hallway. However, the ego at the door ignored his obvious wishes to be left alone. Bim scowled when he heard the door being pushed open without his permission. He lifted his head shakily, fully prepared to tell this person off, trembly voice and all. However, he paused when he saw who had entered his dim room.

He sat quietly and somewhat dumb-founded when Dark slid into his room and shut the door behind him gently. This was the last person he had expected to make an appearance. But there he was, standing by the closed door with a more casual dressing than Bim had ever seen him in before. He wasn't wearing his normal suit jacket and had even ditched his tie, settling instead to unbutton the collar of his dress shirt. Bim glanced down near Dark’s hands and noted that the entity had his cane with him, which was rare for the other egos to see.

Bim made note of these strange occurrences quickly and then glanced back up at Dark’s face, trying to seek out what the demon’s intentions were. He searched the entity’s eyes for the normal pitying look the others wore, but he didn't find it. Nor did he find any malice or look of aggression. So Bim settled back down again, deciding that he was not in any danger from this interaction. Dark could do as he wished. Bim was tired. But Dark didn't leave him be. Instead, the other ego cleared his throat and came a little closer to the bed, hoping to gain back Bim’s attention. The demon waited until Bim looked back up at him before he spoke, standing in a patient manner until the show host shifted slightly and glanced at him. He recognized Bim’s slow movements and the pained look on his face and frowned in response, but did not comment on it. Instead he made a small gesture to the bed with his free hand. “May I?” He asked softly, head tilted at a slight angle as he talked.

Bim raised a confused eyebrow, though he wasn't sure if Dark could see it due to his transparent nature. He wasn't completely sure what was being asked of him at the moment, but he supposed nothing terrible would come if he accepted the vague request. “Suuuure?” He answered the question with his own questioning tone, though his voice came out scratchy and rough sounding. It caused the show host to cringe slightly, but he tried to ignore it. He shifted slightly to the side, allowing room for the entity to sit. To his surprise, Dark instead slowly shifted on to the bed and laid down, propped up somewhat by the backboard. Bim slowly scotted up as well, mimicking Dark’s pose and staring straight ahead.

He sighed softly to himself as he awaited the normal cliche questions. He hadn't gotten to know Dark much in the month he had been here, but with the time he had spent with the demon he sure hadn’t pegged him as the therapist type. Bim didn't care much though. Perhaps it would feel nice to talk about how he felt about all of this anyway… He hadn't been able to talk it out with anyone else due to the taboo of the subject and Bim decided that maybe venting would be nice.

But the questions never came and the two sat in silence for longer than Bim could say. Eventually he glanced at the quiet entity apprehensively and studied the mans face. He looked to be deep in thought but peaceful, an odd crease in his eyebrows and a soft frown on his face. Bim hated to break the silence and peace, but the urge to talk to someone had gotten stronger. He wasn't used to the feeling of loneliness, but now that there was another person near him he felt the pain of it. It was cold and hard in his heart and his stomach and almost worse than the feeling of death that was slowly engulfing him.

So he cleared his throat roughly to try and gain the other’s attention, the noise worse than before in its hoarseness. He grimaced at the ragged sound, but continued anyway. “Aren't you going to ask me if I'm okay?” The question was voiced with more malice than Bim had intended, and he flushed with slight embarrassment. He kept his gaze forward, refusing to look at the other ego in the room even when he felt the demon’s eyes on him.

Dark pondered the question for a moment but then shook his head, well aware that Bim couldn't see it. “No. I already know the answer.” His tone was not sympathetic, nor filled with pity, but it held an element of gentleness that came only from a personal kind of understanding. Dark knew that Bim was not okay. He knew exactly what Bim was going through right now and that he was probably everything except okay.

The demon was content to let the conversation end there, but then he reconsidered. He spoke up again, this time asking a question of his own. “Would you like me to ask you if you are okay?” He glanced at the show host, a questioning eyebrow raised.

His tone didn't hold judgement though, and Bim decided that it was a legitimate question. So he nodded shakily, not answering verbally. He didn't want to hear his own broken voice in comparison to Dark’s smooth tone. He still refused to look at the demon, instead staring a hole through the wall straight ahead. If he still had a solid body than he would have been bright red in embarrassment. He felt silly asking for this, but it helped beat down the terrible lonesome feeling in his chest. And Dark didn't seem to be judging him. He had offered to ask, and he had come here on his own volition, hadn't he? The logical thoughts calmed Bim a little bit, and he attempted to shake off the lingering apprehension he felt.

Dark nodded after a brief moment and looked back at Bim, this time smiling slightly as the other met his eyes. “Alright. Are you okay?” He spoke naturally and somewhat lightly, treating this situation as if he was simply talking to a friend. It was a bit strange to speak so casually, especially considering the situation, but Dark assumed Bim didn't want to be talked down too.

Bim took a moment to respond, truly thinking about the question. He turned away from Dark again as his eyebrows curled in thought. He realized then that he had been trying to push down his feelings about dying and wasn't even sure how he felt. Perhaps the other egos might not be the only ones guilty of ignoring the topic of fading...

After a moment he let out a ragged sound, somewhere between a sob and a sigh, and stuttered through an unsure answer. “I don't really...know. I feel like I should feel something, but I just don't. I'm not angry or sad or even really scared.” It didn't feel like he was dying. The pain was there, but he felt...disconnected from it. Like he was watching a stranger die. It was then he looked back at Dark, his eyes expressing the turmoil he felt. He spoke again, voice much quieter and somewhat childlike. “Should I be scared?”

Dark was silent for a moment this time. He didn't know how to answer this kind of question. Emotions aren't exactly his strong suit, but he felt a pang of sympathy for Bim and felt as if he needed to find an answer someway or another. “No, I don't think so. It won't change anything. But I do think you have a right to be.” He thought for a moment before continuing, debating whether or not to disclose some private information about himself for the sake of comforting another. He decided quickly and continued, though he spoke in a more guarded manner this time. “I wasn't.”

Bim blinked in surprise at that, his eyes widening a bit. “You've faded before? How are you here?” He felt somewhat bad for asking about what must be sensitive information, but he couldn't help himself.

Luckily for him though, Dark seemed to be willing to talk about it. “Yes, i've faded before. Three times actually. Sometimes those that fade can come back, but only if the fans take interest again. It's very rare.” The demon put emphasis on the last part, not wanting to give the other false hope about his situation. The chances of him coming back were 10,000 to 1.

Bim just nodded, thinking over the information quietly to himself. He hadn't heard the others mention this, so he assumed that they didn't know. He frowned at this idea and glanced at the entity, an odd look on his face as he questioned him softly. “How come the others don’t know about this?”

He was afraid he had pushed too far when Dark made a soft noise in his throat. It was some kind of a grunt or a growl, and though it didn't sound too threatening Bim couldn't be sure. But Dark did not lash out or get up to leave, just layed on the bed and shook his head slowly. “I was alone everytime it happened.” He didn't elaborate any further, and Bim wanted to ask whether this was by his own choice, or if the others had treated Dark similar to himself. He didn't push it though, too scared that Dark would get angry and leave him alone.

He did have to ask one last question though, the one question he had had since Dark had walked in the room. “Why are you here? With me?” He made eye contact with the other ego, trying to understand what would motivate the demon to be here for him when none of the others would.

Dark huffed a bitter sounding laugh, holding Bim gaze with a pained one of his own. “No one should have to die alone. Not you. Not anybody.”

---------------------------------------

The two egos had lapsed into silence after that, content to simply lay together in a sort of vulnerable quiet. Eventually, Dark saw Bim’s shaking form start to flicker. Every time his form would blink back it would be weaker and the show host would look more transparent.

But eventually he didn't flicker back at all.

And Dark understood that he was alone once more.

[that-one-girl-behind-you]

Illicio 4/?

Part 3

Trigger warning for some very lightly mentioned domestic abuse and sexual assault (molesting of a minor). During the first POV.

“Come on now, don’t go picking fights with any more entities.” Gerry gives his shoulder a little push as the bus rolls to a stop. Jon complies, but he turns to face Gerry as soon as he hops on the street with him.

“Excuse me? I don’t pick fights with-” Jon’s massive lie fades off into indignant blustering when Gerry wraps a hand around his right wrist and brings his hand up to eye level, giving it a little shake with a raised eyebrow. “W- well that’s different, have you met Jude Perry?”

IV

Nighttime at Jon’s flat is a strange ritual.

The first variable is whether or not Gerry will be staying, which has been happening more often lately. On those nights, Jon usually grabs the first thing that catches his attention from his bookshelf and sits on the coffee table or the carpeted floor -all of Gerry’s teasing about his ‘old lady sofa’ doesn’t stop him from hogging it for himself- to read aloud.

“I thought you didn’t sleep anymore,” he says whenever he looks up from the pages and finds Gerry stretching out mid-yawn.

“I don’t need it.” Gerry’s voice gets hoarser and more relaxed after these naps. “But the experience is still nice.” Which must also apply to the many times Jon’s seen him picking at a bag of crisps or sipping a cup of coffee.

Jon doesn’t mind. He enjoys his reading, and it’s nice to see Gerry at ease; Jon doubts he had many chances to just sit back and take a nap before, and it’s… it’s nice to feel like he’s a safe space for someone.

“If you’re going to doze off anyways, we could move to-” Jon stops himself a moment before finishing the thought, after catching the arched eyebrow and the amused glint in Gerry’s eyes. “Nevermind.”

“No no, by all means ask me to your bed, Jonathan.”

Jon sighs, “I don’t know why I even bother, Gerard.” Gerry scrunches his nose at the name and Jon rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. It never feels like Gerry’s making fun of him, and it makes him miss Tim -the Tim from before, when Jon hadn’t ruined everything yet- a little less.

On the days Gerry’s not around, though, Jon has to find other ways to keep himself distracted from the hunger.

It took him a while to notice, probably because the statements were all he needed for a while. The warehouse worker had been an anomaly, something Jon tried not to think about. He’d been out purchasing some groceries, compelled another random shopper on accident, and it had been just his rotten luck that the man had a story to tell.

Then, the day after Melanie’s… impromptu surgery. Jon had read statement after statement trying to relieve the ache of the wound on his shoulders, but each had brought only the feeling of a cool breeze on a burn; enough to lighten the pain but not doing anything to heal him.

He’d thought the stroll would clear his head and it had almost done so, until he’d seen her. Long brown hair falling over her shoulders in loose ringlets, a wrinkle of worry on her brow and a birthday card signed by all her co-workers wishing her a great day tomorrow.

The scalpel wound had been covered in new skin by the time he’d gone back to the institute, and Jon knew he’d be seeing Zaida Mossen in his dreams.

Sometimes he watches TV, picks a documentary and tries not to Know the next piece of information before the narrator says it on screen. One time he tried looking at old photos on Facebook, but he ended up Knowing his primary school best friend is now trapped with three kids and a woman that beats him every other night, and that his secondary school teacher got away on a technicality after he was found molesting a student. He closed the app before he could come across a picture with Georgie or Tim in it.

Overall, he avoids sleep.

The nightmares were just that, before the Unknowing. He could focus on the fact that he didn’t want the visions and he’d wake up soon enough, to try and drown out Naomi Hernes’ screams. To ignore the resigned, sad gaze of Karolina Gorka when she lay down next to the old man crushed by the chair. He can’t do that anymore.

Tonight Jon is tired after days of Knowing little details unwillingly, and sustaining himself only on old, stale statements. He sits on the edge of his bed and looks through the window to wait for the sky to lighten outside, because he knows if he lays down he will sleep, and if he sleeps he will See.

Dr. Elliot’s fear tastes of desperation. He’d been respected, an expert on his field, he’d only taken the class as a favor. Now he holds out an apple spilling endless teeth around him, begging for someone to take it. He knows they all think he’s mad.

Helen Richardson -the real one, one of Jon’s biggest screwups- has an aftertaste of madness, which makes sense considering the entity that claimed her. She’d been so scared of losing her grip on her mind, because she’d always been so sharp, so… consistent. Sometimes she looks at him over her shoulder before she opens the yellow door.

Tessa Winters has a flavor Jon recognizes well. She regrets clicking the link and downloading the file, and she’s scared she started something without an end, something that will keep tormenting her forever. She has never watched the video again in real life, but every night she tries to turn off a screen in which Sergey Ushanka’s gums bleed around the chewed up glass.

They know he’s watching them. The new ones scream at him for help, the older ones have given up. Both reactions bring Jon a feeling of bliss before he looks up at his patron and the cycle starts again.

“Hey,” comes Gerry’s voice as Jon’s bedroom door creaks open. “Ready to- oh. Didn’t know you were sleeping, I- are you alright?”

Jon blinks up at the ceiling, confused. The pillow is soft below his head, he feels replenished, and he Knows of at least three other people between here and the Institute that he could hunt down and add to his archive.

The edge of the bed sinks beside him, and a curtain of Gerry’s hair shields Jon’s face from the rising sun as he leans over him.

“Jon?”

“I’m- it’s alright.” Jon’s voice is hoarse from sleep too, but where Gerry’s is pleasant and calming, his sounds like he’s been gargling on gravel. “Just nightmares, is all.”

The corner of Gerry’s lips twitches into a side smile, but his eyes are sympathetic.

“That’s our bread and butter, isn’t it?” he asks. The punishing sunlight hits against Jon’s eyes when he stands up, the bed bouncing back a little at the lack of pressure. “Let’s get you to the Institute, some statements will make you feel better.”

The bedroom door closes behind him, and a long, tired sigh blows past Jon’s lips.

————————————————————————————————————————

Gerry counts seven members of the Church of the Divine Host on their way to the Institute. Funnily enough they stand out like sore thumbs in daylight, even without him using his Sight. The closed eye pendant makes something in his stomach coil with irritation, but he ignores it. He knows perfectly well by now that this is the Beholding rearing up at the perceived slight. For larger than life beings of cosmic horror, the entities are pretty much just angry cats swatting at each other very ineffectively.

Jon gives off a little grunt; he’s much more ensnared in than Gerry, so he supposes it makes sense.

“Come on now, don’t go picking fights with any more entities.” Gerry gives his shoulder a little push as the bus rolls to a stop. Jon complies, but he turns to face Gerry as soon as he hops on the street with him.

“Excuse me? I don’t pick fights with-” Jon’s massive lie fades off into indignant blustering when Gerry wraps a hand around his right wrist and brings his hand up to eye level, giving it a little shake with a raised eyebrow. “W- well that’s different, have you met Jude Perry?”

“Yeah, and she gets along fairly well with other avatars. Even Gertrude never went around looking like she stuck her hand in a deep fryer and Perry hated her guts.” The burn scars on Jon’s hands are silky smooth when Gerry runs his thumb along the skin. They feel like his own. “If she did this to you, I’m going to go out on a limb and say-”

“I did not compel her,” Jon interrupts him with the most pompous, offended voice. Gerry gives his wrist a little squeeze, grinning. Jon sniffs, and Gerry can see the corner of his lips twitching. “But I did try a whole lot.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” Gerry cackles, letting go of his hand. “But you’re right about the Dark. They’re growing bolder, I think we’re going to get a visit sooner rather than later.”

Jon gives him a side look with a curved eyebrow.

“We?”

“Well yes, who else is going to lull me to sleep with his dulcet tones and extremely specific facts about the Russian Revolution?” Gerry rolls his eyes. “If the Dark comes for you, they come for me.”

Jon doesn’t say anything to that, but he looks extremely pleased for the rest of the walk to the Institute. It’s very endearing, Gerry thinks with a smile as he watches him descend the stairs into the Archives.

“Oh my God.” Gerry turns at the sound of the voice, and finds Melanie shaking her head at him.

��What?” Gerry figures if anyone here is going to get offended at his lack of manners, it’s definitely not going to be the woman that was a death away from becoming a physical incarnation of violence.

Melanie rolls her eyes. “Nothing. You’re going out?”

“Yeah?”

“Okay. I’m going with you, you’re going to explain some things.” She doesn’t wait for an answer, moving towards the front doors instead. Gerry blinks a couple times, trying to process the turn of events, before he follows after Melanie.

They end up at a little park a good way away from the Institute, and Gerry can’t help but notice that with every step Melanie takes away from the building her posture relaxes, and so does the ever-present frown at her brow.

“So… What is it that you wanted me to explain?” Gerry asks after they’ve sat down against a tree trunk, away from any passersby. They must make a terribly stereotypical sight, a cute little couple out on a date instead of a woman on a mission and her hostage.

Melanie looks up at him, her dark eyes especially striking behind her brightly colored bangs.

“What am I?” She asks. Then, like the thought just occurred to her, “I’m not like him am I? I mean, I didn’t- I can’t heal from statements or make people tell me things or-”

Gerry shakes his head. “That’s an Archivist thing, and there’s only one of those.”

“So I’m what? The Assistant? Because that’s a pretty lame title and I don’t care for it.” Melanie gives him an unimpressed stare, and Gerry chuckles under his breath. Either she’s very likable, or he just has a soft spot for blunt people.

“Nah. If anything, you were going to become an avatar of the Slaughter,” he says, gesturing at the bandaged spot that he knows is under her trousers. “I call them wielders, but the Beholding is really the only one that has titles for its avatars. I think that’s why no one likes them, too presumptuous.”

“Them?” Melanie asks, “aren’t you one too?”

“Not really,” says Gerry, feeling a shudder run down his spine. No thanks. “But I’m marked by the Watcher, just like you.”

Melanie takes a deep breath, clearly trying to keep her patience. “Didn’t you just say I was an avatar of the Slaught-” she gives him a furious glare, when Gerry slaps a hand over her mouth.

He pulls it back before she can decide to bite a few fingers off. “Don’t go proclaiming that stuff. These things take that seriously and Jon didn’t almost get himself killed so you could invite the Slaughter in again.”

Melanie rolls her eyes. “Fine. What does ‘being marked’ mean then?”

“Well, just that really. It’s when an entity had a grip on you at some point, usually because you ran into an avatar or a monster,” Gerry shrugs, twirling one of his rings around his finger just to have something to do with his hands. He doesn’t like talking about these things too much; too many years playing database for the hunters has left him very wary of people who want his knowledge. “Some marked people get abilities, like me. Some grow into full avatars, some don’t. It really depends on the person, and whether or not the entity thinks they’re a good fit.”

“And the Eye doesn’t think you are?”

“I don’t really care about knowledge as much as I care about using what I know to help people. I’m also marked by the End, but again, not a match.” He gives her a disappointed pout, and her mouth twitches. “There’s really no limit to how many entities can mark you, other than your bad luck I guess. Jon has like ten marks on him.”

“Ten?” Melanie arches her eyebrows. “Why so many?”

“A week ago he only had nine,” Gerry gives her a pointed look. Sure, she wasn’t herself back then, but he still remembers the small, exhausted grunts of pain as he helped Jon peel the blood soaked shirt off.

Melanie looks forward and her lips purse in a way that could be either sheepishness, or an attempt at holding a smile back. Knowing Melanie, he doubts it’s the first one.

“Well, I couldn’t eat solids for two days after,” she says in the end, and Gerry rolls his eyes.

“You were going to kill him. For real.” He hadn’t even thought before throwing the punch, because the only thing in his mind had been getting her away from Jon.

“Okay, okay,” Melanie waves a hand as if trying to bat the topic away. “I’m sorry for stabbing your boyfriend.”

Gerry doesn’t bother correcting her, just like he didn’t that night at the break room. As long as they don’t figure out his relationship with Jon is truly parasitic, they can think whatever they want.

There is, however, a lie he will call out. On principle. “No you’re not.”

Now Melanie smiles for real, even letting out a little huff of amusement.

“No, but I know I should be sorry. That has to count for something, right?”

————————————————————————————————————————

Basira hates a lot of things about the Institute.

For example, how she can feel herself changing with every word she reads on the damned books she can’t put down to save her life. How she’s trapped inside the building, and the only time she really braves the outside is when she goes and outruns whatever monster of the week is waiting for her because she feels Elias has something to tell her. How the building seems to have been designed with the sole goal of making its inhabitants as unnerved as possible.

She hates every corner and every brick, every dark room where the light switch is placed just out of reach when you first walk in, and how it always feels like someone is watching-

“You were there,” says a rough accented voice, and Basira freezes on her spot. The light switch is three more steps to the right, she knows this room, she can-

A large hand wraps itself around her neck and pulls her away from the door. The door closes behind her, and Basira no longer knows how far it is to the light switch. She’s never been in this room- is this a room?

“You’re not doing that. We’re friends, you and I. We don’t need to see each other.” The voice evokes a sense of familiarity within Basira, but something inside her is screaming at her, a primal urge to fight or flee. “Don’t you remember me?”

“I do not know you,” Basira says dryly, and the voice laughs in delight. A man, she’s pretty sure it’s a man… unless it isn’t? Maybe it’s a woman. Or neither. She should- she knows this person.

But didn’t she just say the opposite?

There’s some steps behind the door, so there must be a door. If there is a door, and there are steps… Then there has to be other people. People she knows. People who are real. Is she not real? If she knows this person, and they’re not real, then maybe she isn’t either.

But… but no. She has to be real, because she opened the door. Doors are real. They go to real places -most of them at least- and that must mean this is a place, and it’s real. If it’s a place, then she can… Basira frowns, feeling like she’s at the edge of something, if she could just…“This is a plac-”

“Don’t say a word.” The hand tightens around her throat. It doesn’t feel like any human hand Basira has touched before, only Basira suddenly isn’t so convinced she has touched any human before. Or perhaps she has and they all feel like this. Does she not feel like this because she’s not human?

The door opens, and the tenuous light that makes its way into the room is enough to chase away the shadow of uncertainty in Basira’s mind.

This is the Institute, she’s Basira Hussain, and she’s in danger. That’s all she needs to get to work.

“Jon, don’t turn the light on,” she orders, her voice calm and steady. “Go and find Melanie, quick.”

It isn’t until she gives the order that she remembers Melanie no longer has the bullet, and Elias’s stupid voice comes to haunt her. You lost Melanie.

“It’s alright Basira. I know he’s here.” Jon’s voice is like she’s never heard it before. No warmth, no hesitation, no sign of the man that measures his every word to try to not hurt anyone, and ends up doing so anyways. She can barely see his silhouette where he’s profiled by the light behind him, but she can see his eyes emit the eerie green glow they had that night by Melanie’s bed.

“So what are you doing?” she asks.

Three steps. Click.

Jon looks at some point behind and above Basira’s shoulder.

“I imagine he’s here to deliver something.” Jon’s words are punctuated by a low thrumming static. “Let her go.” Basira can feel each word vibrate with power, and the hand around her throat starts trembling as the creature fights the compulsion

It’s enough for her to twist out of its grasp. She doesn’t go stand by Jon, but moves in his general direction until she’s closer to him than she is to the… thing.

It looks like a man. It has all the parts. Skin, face, hands. It is not a man.

“Is- the deliverymen,” she blurts out the realization as soon as it comes.

“Deliveryman,” Jon says by her side. Once again she’s taken aback by the coldness of his voice, and the way his eyes are fixed on the being. “Which one are you?” he asks, and the glow from his eyes pulsates once as the static rises.

“ ’m Breekon,” the thing says immediately, then takes a step backwards. Jon takes a step forward and vaguely in Basira’s direction, and she realizes he plans on stepping between them.

“And where’s Hope?” The static in his voice remains, and the thing squirms a little more, clearly uncomfortable.

“Hope’s gone,” says the monster.

'Tell me about it,’ thinks Basira, before she takes a deep breath.

“And what? Are you here for revenge?” Hope turns to face her as she speaks, and stays silent. Jon gives a tired sigh, and repeats the question. It takes a few more seconds, like the fact that Breekon isn’t holding eye contact -if it even has eyes- delays the compulsion. It’s not enough to stop it.

“Yes. Like when we- when I put the mutt in the pit,” it says, and gives something at his feet a little kick. It’s only then that Basira sees the rough wooden coffin with its rusted chain and the scratched warning on top. “It knew where it was going, I think. It was scared of it. Never seen a hunter scream like that.”

Breekon gives a dark chuckle, and Basira feels molten hot rage spilling from her stomach, prickling at her eyes. Of course Daisy was scared of the fucking thing, she saw it in her dreams every other night, Basira would know. Her hand itches for her gun, but Jon’s voice comes before she can even begin reaching for it.

“Easy, Basira.” It’s not compulsion per se, and his voice does get softer when he spares her the quickest glance, but Basira still bristles at the words. What right does he have to ask her to hold back and be reasonable, when he’s been trying to corral Martin into talking to him whenever he’ll stand still for long enough?

“Daisy’s in there?” She asks instead, just to confirm. She cannot go into the coffin, her mind’s clear enough to push the desperate thought away but… but she needs to know.

The monster turns to her again, and huffs in what she guesses is amusement.

“Answer her,” says Jon calmly, businesslike. Breekon shudders.

“Nikola should’ve killed you faster,” it says, and Basira gets the feeling he’s trying to stall for time. Probably just to get on their nerves, because what is there to hide when he’s already told them? “Sure. Whatever’s left of it at least. Go find it for all I care.”

“Why are you here?” Jon asks again, taking another step between Basira and the deliveryman.

“Hm. Dunno. ’S not much to do without Hope around,” the monster shrugs. Out the corner of her eye Basira sees Jon stiffen. She remembers Daisy doing the same at times, freezing like a hunting dog with prey in its sights. “We’ve always been together.”

“…Jon?” Basira reaches out to touch his shoulder, but he doesn’t react. The glow in his eyes is brighter now, and Basira’s pretty sure he’s stopped breathing. The static in the room gets louder, and she snaps her head towards Breekon, her hand now firmly on her gun. “Get out.”

“Make me.”

“Stop.” Jon’s voice reverberates all the way through Basiras’ bones, and she and Breekon freeze.

“Jon, what are you doing?” Basira doesn’t try to touch him again. His form appears too sharp somehow, like those pictures that are so high quality they seem unreal, and his eyes look glassy and green as Breekon squirms under his gaze.

“Wh- stop. Stop it.” Breekon moves strangely, like he’s trying to take a step back but he’s stuck to the floor. Basira has a flashback to the butterflies and moths pinned to cork boards at her secondary school, their wings spread wide and their bodies exposed for everyone to look. She shudders. “Stop looking at me!”

“No.” Jon’s voice echoes inside Basira’s head, and her vision goes white. She has the briefest sense of satisfaction as she hears Breekon scream and gasp, and she’s aware only part of it is bitterness over Daisy. The other is some sort of instinctive pleasure; she guided Jon here, the Archivist needed this information and she found Breekon for him to See, she- she scowls. That’s not her.

That’s not her at all.

The room reforms around her piece by piece as she shakes her head and her vision clears. She sees Breekon’s heel disappear behind the door, before Jon is stumbling towards the closest desk.

“Get me-” he starts to ask, but Basira’s already offering a pen with movements that aren’t entirely her own either. His eyes are back to normal, but Basira only stays for long enough to see him start scribbling on a notebook page, before it becomes too much.

She makes sure not to turn her back to him as she leaves.

————————————————————————————————————————

The thought is almost too weird for her, but Melanie finds herself enjoying the little excursion. She does wonder why no one -nothing- has targeted them yet, but she doesn’t get attacked when she’s out with Helen either, so maybe the monsters are just opportunistic bastards and don’t like to risk it when the odds aren’t in their favor.

Gerard is very easy to like, for someone so infuriatingly fond of Jon. Melanie finds herself thinking they could’ve been friends, if they’d met under different circumstances.

As things are now, she’s far too aware of the way his eyes keep drifting towards the Institute, even though they’ve walked far enough that the building is well out of sight and behind several twists and turns.

“Are you feeling him?” she asks when they finally climb to their feet after a few hours of fear talk. The question is somewhat awkward in her mouth; she doesn’t like Jon, but Gerard does, and she’s decided she likes him enough to not want to offend him. The desire to not hurt still feels foreign in her mind.

“Mm? Oh. Not really,” Gerard shrugs, looking down at her. “I don’t know? I just know where he is. Like the general direction.”

“Hm. That would’ve been useful last year, he got kidnapped like three times.” Melanie pats the back of her shorts to get rid of any dirt and grass that decided to come up with her.

“Did he now?” And yeah, the urge to maim someone is back with the fond little smile on Gerard’s face. “And he has the gall to say he doesn’t get into trouble.”

“Well, he does. What now?” she asks, opting to only bump his shoulder with hers instead of punching his arm. This guy can be as infatuated with a supernatural disaster as he wants, and she won’t feel any strong way about it. No violence here, no siree, Slaughter who?

“Well… we go back, I think? Unless you have more questions.” Gerard looks at her as he shoves his hands into his pockets. Melanie deflates a bit; it is a nice day, and she gets very few chances to leave the Institute.

They do end up going back, but Melanie makes a point of stopping for ice cream on the way back. Gerard gives in suspiciously quickly, and Melanie finds herself liking the guy more and more.

Her phone buzzing with an incoming text from Georgie as she’s handed her double caramel scoop only makes this an even better day.

“That’s a big smile,” Gerard comments as she taps away at the keys. She looks up at him disbelievingly, but there’s no indication he realizes how much of a hypocrite he’s being as he calmly sucks on his cherry ice lolly.

“The nerve.” Melanie rolls her eyes. “It’s my- a friend.”

Gerard bites off a chunk of the ice lolly, and it does more to convince Melanie that he’s not human than the fact that he walked back from the dead.

“Sounds complicated.”

“I’m trapped at Spook Central because of her ex boyfriend, it is complicated,” Melanie mumbles. Georgie’s one of the few good things left in her life, and she’s determined to keep her away from this horrible, horrible circus. “Besides, not all of us get wingmanned by an eldritch entity.”

“She’s Jon’s ex?” Gerard arches an eyebrow as he leans forward to try and peek at Melanie’s phone.

“Do you have selective hearing or something?! Get back!” She punches and shoves at his shoulder until he retreats with an amused smile. The act doesn’t leave a taste of metal in her tongue, she’s surprised to find. Or a craving for more, harsher action. It only feels… companionable. Almost playful.

Melanie had forgotten what it felt like to be friendly with someone.

She’d never say it aloud, but if she counts Georgie and this guy -and even Martin whenever he’s not being a bitch and a half because he’s on a Secret Mission- Jon doesn’t have terrible taste in people.

There’s a man coming out of the Institute, and Gerard’s arm shoots in front of her chest to stop her just as she realizes it’s not a man at all.

“Is that-”

Gerard nods. His frown melts away after he looks at the building again, head tilted as if hearing a sound Melanie can’t register.

“Fuck,” Melanie mutters under her breath. Of course this would happen now, after the bullet is gone and on the one day she decides to go out. “There’s another entrance at the back, let’s-”

“They’re alright.” Gerard sounds thoughtful as he watches the creature stumble its way into a side street. “Beholding marks don’t suit the Stranger well, it seems.”

She looks up, and the smile on his face looks dangerous, somehow.

“Jon?”

“Did a right number on it.” There’s a hint of dark pride to his voice, a polar opposite to the ridiculously soft demeanor he usually adopts when it comes to Jon, and Melanie finds it that she much prefers the absurd fondness to whatever this is. Basira’s words from a few weeks back play through her mind, and she remembers she still doesn’t know what Gerard is. Or why the Eye brought him to Jon. “Go check on them, I’ll finish it off.”

“I’ll come with you,” she decides in a split second. “I can still do it.”

Gerard turns to look down at her, and whatever it was that made her stomach knot in worry is gone so fast Melanie wonders if she imagined it in the first place. There’s a dubious frown on his brow, and his mouth, still dyed red by the stupid lolly, is pressed in a tight line.

“I don’t doubt you could,” he says after a moment. “But I don’t want you to. Don’t invite it back in, remember?”

She does, but she also doesn’t trust the shadow that passed over him not a minute ago.

“Then I won’t do it. But I- I need to watch,” she tries again. “Or I won’t be convinced it’s gone.”

Another long moment of Gerard measuring her up, before he finally nods.

“If you need it,” he says, leading the way into the side street the monster took. Melanie follows with careful steps.

She likes Gerard, but she’s not naive enough to forget she’s been wrong before.

————————————————————————————————————————

When Basira walks into the windowless room, Elias is reading a celebrity gossip magazine, and she wants to rip his eyes out

“Good evening, Det-”

“Drop it,” Basira interrupts, and Elias’ thin lips curl into a smile. Her hands curl into fists, to keep from wrapping around his neck. “Breekon came to see us yesterday. He brought-”

“The coffin, yes.” Elias nods. “I must admit it was quite pleasing to see you work with Jon so seamlessly, Basira. But I suspect you’re not here for my praise, are you?”

Basira advances on him until she’s looming over his sitting form, and she bristles at the calm look he aims at her.

“I hope you’re not so surprised to know Miss Tonner is alive?” He arches a carefully shaped eyebrow. Of course this bastard uses jail to catch up with his beauty routine. “Surely you know by now that the Eye rewards those who are loyal.”

So that confirms that.

“That’s what Keay is then? A reward for Jon?”

“Oh, he didn’t tell you?” Elias tsks in disappointment, shaking his head. “One would’ve thought he’d learned to be honest to his team by now.” His poison green eyes focus on Basira’s face again. “Well, I guess it can’t be fixed… Despite my best efforts, you never did bond.”

“Shut up!” Basira snaps finally. Bond. Like they’re a cute little group of misfits in a TV show instead of an armload of hostages. Her right hand digs into Elias’ hair, grabbing a fistful and tightening as she pulls back until his neck is twisted at a very awkward angle. “How do I bring her back?” Elias smirks again. She tightens her grip until she feels a few hair strands snap. “I am not in the mood for your games.”

“Always so direct,” he says in the end. “But as I said, the Eye rewards its own. Let me give you some leads, Detective.”

[savage-rhi]

Hellö! Hope your while teeth situation is better. You you give us another HiggsxReader? Where the reader is really angry at him, but it takes him a moment to get just how pissed if they are? Thanks and love you! ♥️♥️💕💕💕💕💕

Hey, nonny I appreciate that, thank you! Here’s your request hon :D!

“Y/N,” Higgs tried to get their attention for the sixth time today, but to no avail. Higgs was growing irritated each time he was rejected. He wanted answers, no, needed them. Ever since he had cracked a joke at Y/N’s expense, they hadn’t stepped up to the table to banter him like the two had done before. There were no wisecracks, no playful jabs, nadda. Zilch. It was as if Y/N and Higgs were strangers once again, barely knowing a thing about the other and not able to stand the presence of each other. 

Sighing deeply, Higgs rolled his eyes as he let out a puff of air. He tried to keep his composure as it became increasingly obvious that Y/N was more than beyond pissed at him. Higgs knew he could be an asshole, and admitted it in full to Y/N numerous times. It wasn’t his fault they couldn’t get with the program. Higgs knew he intended no harm, and thought Y/N was stupid for taking things seriously. However, the other part of his mind, the part that had gotten increasingly attached to Y/N over the weeks, was scared shitless that he was this close to losing someone he had formed a legitimate connection to since Amelie had tossed him in the trash. 

“You know, you can’t ignore me forever.” Higgs taunted, running towards Y/N given that they had put quite a bit of distance between themselves and Higgs. He ended up in front of Y/N, walking backward as they kept their eyes on their shoes, ignoring the fact Higgs was present in their sights. 

“C’mon, say something. It’s not my fault you’re weak-minded when it comes to jokes.” Higgs said with a snort, and unfortunately, that had been the straw that broke the camels back. Y/N’s gaze shot up, meeting Higgs’s blue eyes as he subtly jumped from the action and Y/N glared at him with such intensity, that even though Higgs towered over Y/N, he felt small.

“Let me tell you something about being weak,” Y/N said as a matter of fact, rage engulfing their tone as they pressed on. “Being weak is being a sorry no excuse of an asshole and joking about someone’s suffering at their expense. There are certain boundaries you don’t cross with people, and Higgs, you fucking crossed the line. No, you blew it all fucking up.”

“Was that supposed to be a jab at my previous life as a terrorist?” Higgs asked defensively as Y/N shrugged. They couldn’t care less at this point how he took it given how upset they had become. 

“Maybe! Who knows! Who cares anyway right? It’s like you said before if you can’t laugh about your own bullshit, what can you do?”

“Look will you just--stop for ten seconds.” Higgs pleaded as he put his hands up in front of Y/N. It didn’t do anything to dissuade them from trekking on, Y/N shoving Higgs out of the way and off to the side and walking through him. 

Trailing behind Y/N yet again, Higgs hollered. “Look I’m sorry! What the hell do you want me to do, kiss the ground you walk on?” 

“No, but saying sorry is off to a good start! Why don’t you deal with your conscience then get back to me when you learn something!” Y/N said, still refusing to turn around and face him, and still refusing to stop walking. 

Higgs knew had his powers been there, had he still been under servitude to Amelie the Extinction Entity, Higgs would have used the BTs to hold down Y/N and force them to listen. Hell, there were a lot of things he would have done to Y/N when they first met. Terrible things. As he thought long and hard about his misdeeds, Higgs could feel his anger dissipate as he closed his eyes and took in a breath to calm himself. He didn’t want to think like that anymore, didn’t want to be that asshole that almost doomed every living thing to an eternity of nothing. 

After giving Y/N some space for a few hours, Higgs finally gathered up his pride and carefully approached Y/N as they were taking a break from walking. He sat across from them, his eyes roaming over their body with furrowed brows. Y/N forced themselves to look up at Higgs, pitying him to a degree but remained neutral despite how mad they still were. 

“Hey, look--” Higgs began as he paused, trying to go over his words one more time. He had been prepping himself for a while now. “I know I upset you and I’m owning up to it and apologizing. I didn’t realize how much my joke would hurt you. I truly mean that. I thought--I don’t know. I don’t know what I was thinking at the time cept having fun with you. I went about it the wrong way.”

Y/N sighed, shaking their head almost like a parent disappointed in their child for making a terrible mistake. Higgs felt his stomach churn as he looked over Y/Ns features, swallowing nervously. 

“Higgs, I’m not as pissed but--I just can’t for the life of me understand why you’d make light of someone’s suffering. Do you have any idea what that’s like? I bet the mere concept is foreign to you given how you don’t mind trampling over others.” Y/N said, their tone teetering on the edge of interrogation as Higgs looked shocked. Almost like he had been stabbed in the chest just then as his mouth gaped open. Y/N was startled, not sure what was going on with Higgs now as he remained still like a statue before his tongue flicked over his bottom lip, snapping himself out of silence. He tensed as he quietly responded.

“I know what it's like to suffer. I just don’t wear my heart on my sleeve like you do.” Higgs said sincerely. The honesty in his voice pulling a bit at Y/N’s heart and mind, not expecting Higgs, of all people, to sound so vulnerable then. 

The dam had already broke, and Higgs figured to make up with his transgressions towards Y/N, he’d offer a piece of himself in return; despite how much it was going to hurt churning up memories he had wanted to forget. 

“When I was a boy, my daddy kept me locked away in a damn bunker. Starved me half to death if he even thought I was gonna leave him like his sister--my mother did. She betrayed the family, running off with my biological father. I’ve been beaten’ within an inch of my life before many times that you wouldn’t be able to count them all on my fingers,” Higgs said as he paused holding up his gloved hand before continuing.

“I know what it’s like to be in pain better than anyone else. I know what it’s like to consider yourself damaged goods cause of what an adult--someone you’re supposed to trust, did because they were fucked in the head.”

“Higgs,” Y/N tried to interject as he held up his hand again to gently shush Y/N from speaking. Higgs’s free hand rubbed the back of his neck as he sighed, looking anywhere else but at Y/N’s eyes for the moment while he tried to take himself back to the present and not into the dark of the old bunker he once called home. 

“You don’t have to forgive me, but can we at least go back to talking?” Higgs pleaded with Y/N, smirking a little as he wiped away at his eyes trying to hide the fact he was on the verge of tearing up from sharing that bad part of his life. 

“I miss you getting on my ass,” Higgs said with a chuckle, causing Y/N to smile despite how much they tried not to. He playfully got closer to Y/N’s, trying to make them laugh as he hummed and made silly faces, all the while his hands reached to poke at Y/N’s weak spots where he knew they were ticklish at. 

“C’mon I know you want to laugh at me. Let it out you stuck up bitch.” Higgs teased until Y/N started to crack. Their face lit up as they laughed hard, pulling Higgs into a hug soon after. Higgs froze in place, eyes widening as he cautiously wrapped an arm around Y/N’s waist; his face nuzzling the crook of their neck as he sighed in relief and closed his eyes. Higgs hadn’t lost them after all. 

**A link to my ko-fi account. If you enjoy my content and want to support me getting my monthly medication for fibromyalgia and arthritis, I would be eternally grateful. It is NOT a requirement however! All my work is free to read!**

[itsomgitsgreenblogging]

Let Me Hold You: A Critical Role Fanfic

I really have no excuse for this besides the fact that it was half-finished and I need to absorb the latest episode and figure out how to edit my current WIP to match up a little better with all the canon we've been getting. Also...like...I love Essek so much. We could have this. Caleb...it is your duty...level up the party. Just do it.

Enjoy!

Read on AO3

Warning: Explicit content

"For once, the anxieties...the fear...all of it felt so far away. Without those things, he barely even knew who he was. How did one define themselves without the things holding them back? It had to be with the things they desired. And all he desired was for Caleb to touch him, recklessly and like Essek would die without him. What did that say about him?"

“Oh Luxon,” Essek groaned as Beauregard laid him down on the floor. He was cold and dizzy, the sort of cold that came from continual blood loss. An ice shard in the leg would do that to a person, Essek thought. He hadn’t expected to die today, but he also hadn’t expected to run into an ancient white dragon either. 

“Caduceus!” Caleb shouted. There was an ugly looking bruise on his face from where he had been bashed against a wall, and his coat was half frozen. 

“I got him,” Caduceus said, voice calm and coming from underwater. There was the sensation of more pain, a rough tugging, and then blessed warmth and comfort. It had to have been his Goddess’ power rushing through his veins, pulsing against his ribs like something alive and growing. Essek’s breath came harsh and whistling in his lungs. Caleb was already handing him a water flask, and Essek gratefully swallowed the water. He cringed as he felt a pulling at his ribs, obviously whatever spell the cleric had used had been strong enough to heal him, but not completely. 

“We all alright?” Fjord asked, looking harried and frost bitten. 

“Well, we’re not fucking dead,” Nott grumbled, pulling an ice shard out from where it was impaling her bag. 

“That dragon was super duper not fun!” Jester nearly whined, splaying out on the floor like she was about to make snow-angels on the carpet. “Fjord you really ought to have married her, so that way she coulda loved us!”

“Uh, no. That is definitely not a plan that would work,” Fjord pointed out with a long suffering sigh. 

“Wow, Essek, I didn’t think it was possible for you to look pale. Dude, are you fucking okay?” Beauregard asked him rather astutely. 

“I feel still...a bit bloodless,” Essek admitted, managing to pull himself into a sitting position with Caleb’s help. Essek was surprised how warm Caleb felt, and how that warmth bled into Essek and made living almost become manageable. If he was less exhausted, Essek would have probably shied away from the touch. Even after everything, he still had that ghost in the back of his brain screaming at him to leave and to go home and to bury himself in a book and to not interact with another breathing entity for at least twelve hours. However, somehow, Essek found that in his exhaustion it was easy to overcome that. Especially since being in Caleb’s arms felt worth the whole near death experience. 

“Nott, ach! I am out of healing potions. Do you have any extras?” Caleb asked, and Essek could barely focus because his arm was around Essek. It was giving everything in Essek’s body not turn his head and bury himself into that embrace. 

“I think I do,” Nott said, rummaging around in her half-ripped bag. The goblin swore as things came tumbling out and she barely managed to catch them. She shoved two potions into Essek’s hands. Essek, still half-lucid and very hurt, opened them both and downed them like shots. As was usually the case, the taste of a healing potion hit him in the front of his tongue. The liquid was made of a cacophony of herbal bitter notes that had him cringing. However, strangely, something else...something floral caught his attention. 

Essek immediately felt better, as if a rush of energy and health had been breathed into his flesh. On his own strength, he was able to get up to his feet. He caught Caleb’s relieved smile, watched as it unfurled across his mouth. It was sweet and private and was just for Essek, and it made him breathless to think that he could ever be so lucky as to have seen that smile. Even battle hardened and bruised and dirty, Caleb was always a sight to behold. 

And then, immediately, his knees went weak. Caleb yelped as he reached out and managed to catch Essek before he collapsed completely onto the floor. His arms catching Essek’s, and half-hoisting him up. 

“Essek? Are you alright?” Caleb asked him, desperately searching his gaze. Essek couldn’t respond beyond nodding his head because his mouth was suddenly watering. Caleb’s scent was overwhelming through the strange fog in his mind. His canines itched to bite into the nape of Caleb’s neck and claim the exotic...pale...untouched skin there. 

No, Essek thought, physically shaking his head to rid himself of these inappropriate thoughts. This was not normal...in the sense that this had come on too quick. His thighs pressed together as just the sensation of Caleb’s hands on his arms made him half-hard. Yes, definitely not normal. There was something wrong with him. 

“What...did I drink?” Essek managed. 

“You drank a health potion and--” Nott looked at the second bottle. “Uh…” 

“Did he drink Rhino Sex?” Yasha asked, looking down at Nott. 

“You gave him what?” Fjord asked, sounding horrified. Jester nearly shoved a fist in her mouth to hold back giggles...and it didn’t work in the least. 

“It was just something I stole from an apothecary! Yeza said it was like, snake oil! It wasn’t supposed to work!” Nott shouted. 

“Oh Gods,” Essek groaned, a wave of strange dizziness hitting him again. He couldn’t even follow the conversation any longer. This time he gave into his instincts and buried his head against Caleb’s neck and shoulder, breathing in deep the smell of wood fire and male. He had to resist every urge in his body to rut against Caleb like an animal. There were others watching...and yet, it was becoming harder and harder to think about them. Besides, who cared if they were watching? Caleb was right here...was right against him and he wasn’t moving. It had to mean that Caleb wanted Essek as badly as Essek wanted him. 

For once, the anxieties...the fear...all of it felt so far away. Without those things, he barely even knew who he was. How did one define themselves without the things holding them back? It had to be with the things they desired. And all he desired was for Caleb to touch him, recklessly and like Essek would die without him. What did that say about him? 

Honestly, considering how hard he was and without any relief, he might die anyways. 

Distantly, Essek felt himself be half-carried and half-dragged somewhere. Suddenly Essek realized that he wasn’t pressed to Caleb any longer. Essek, fueled by his ravenous desire and desperation, found himself pinning Caleb to a wall. The kiss was bruising and filthy, and sent his hips bucking against Caleb’s. There was the distant slamming of a door, and then a bed hit the back of Essek’s knees and sent him toppling backwards. Caleb didn’t go with him, instead his eyes were bright and wild and a strange grimace was pulling at his mouth. 

“I’m sorry,” Caleb apologized, and it didn’t make any sense because he should have been kissing Essek instead of apologizing. “Jester and Caduceus are out of spells, this is all I could think to do.”

“Caleb, I need you,” Essek moaned, pulling at the clasp of his trousers and finally releasing himself from the confines of his pants. He arched as he grabbed a hold of his own cock, the sensation stronger than anything he had ever felt before. It was as if he had been on edge for days, teased until he simply could no longer take it. He had never understood the appeal of that, until right then, when even the brush of the covers against him made him wanton. 

“No,” Caleb said firmly, though his gaze was burning into his skin like the hottest glow of a flame. It settled upon his skin and made him whimper. 

“Why?” Essek pleaded, his hips stuttering into his own hand. He sounded debauched to his own ears, and in any other situation he would have just curled over and expired from the sheer embarrassment. But at this exact moment he didn’t give a damn.  “Caleb, I promise, I’d make it good...I’d make it so good!”   

“Work through this first,” Caleb said, softly, comfortingly. He reached out to brush his fingers against Essek’s cheek. Essek leaned against it, chasing the touch, and just that made Essek gasp with pleasure that wracked him down to his bones. “Then I’ll give you what you want.” 

An oil vial was pressed into Essek’s hand. Essek wasted no time. After all, it made perfect sense, Caleb wanted Essek to open himself up for him. Essek managed to open it with his shaking hand, before turning it over into his fingers and coating them. The slick slide against his cock was worth it, as was the feeling of fullness as he pressed inside himself. This. This was what he had wanted. Now all Essek needed to do was chase the feeling until he was ready. 

“Very good,” Caleb said, kneeling on the bed beside him. “You look beautiful like this, Essek.” 

Essek screwed his eyes closed. He was close. He was so goddamn close. Why? What was missing? 

"Please Caleb," he begged, trying to work in deeper, to press harder, but it wasn't any use. He needed Caleb so badly, entirely, desperately and he was right there. Essek could almost taste his scent, his kiss, his everything. Why was Caleb doing this to him? Why, when it was so obvious what Essek wanted? He may as well as been bleeding his feelings all over the floor for everyone to see. He was doing it again, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Essek didn’t want to stop it, especially when it felt this good to be vulnerable. But if only Caleb would touch him it would feel so much better. 

"You are doing so well," Caleb promised, forehead pressed to his. "You are almost there, Essek. Be patient. Once this is over then we may give in to any of your desires." 

"Why?" Essek sobbed, tears welling in his eyes and thick in his voice. He moaned as another one of his fingers stretched inside of him, but his fingers weren’t enough. "Caleb, I want you so badly. I don't...I don't want to wait!" 

"Sh," Caleb soothed, cradling Essek's cheek. The sensation shooting through him and making Essek tingle. "Liebling, I want to watch you. You are so very beautiful like this. You wouldn't want to deny me that pleasure, would you?" 

Essek couldn't answer beyond a whimper, he was so close, so close. He was a thread ready to be snapped by  the tension. Caleb wanted to see him, and then he would fuck Essek. It made perfect sense now. He had to do this, and do it well, or else Caleb would withhold more of his glorious touch and that was something Essek simply couldn’t stand. 

"That's it," Caleb said, forehead tenderly pressing against Essek's. "Come for me, Essek. Let me see you." 

Essek broke over Caleb's words and the gentle soothing touch like a wave against the rocks. It was perhaps the most punishing orgasm of his whole life, and it left him light headed and strung out upon the bed. The strange fog in his mind that washed everything out in shades of desire was lifted, and everything crystallized into much more rational thoughts. He ran his tongue over his teeth, minding his still aching canines, before groaning at the utterly foul taste that clogged up his mouth. 

"Water?" Essek croaked, and Caleb immediately gave him a wineskin. He swished the water, gargled and then swallowed. Thankfully, he was rid of the awful stale taste in his mouth. He couldn’t help but stick out his tongue and shudder, causing Caleb to chuckle at his antics.

"How are you feeling?" Caleb asked worriedly.  

"Sticky…" Essek sighed, rubbing his legs together. The simmer of arousal was still there, but it was easier to think around. His thoughts were coming clearer and more organized, and at the moment he was choosing to simply not feel the warmth that blossomed across his skin. "Embarrassed."

"No, no need," Caleb promised him.

"Horny," Essek concurred, and despite everything this is what made Caleb blush. "As are you, I'm assuming." 

"I'm...I'm fine--" 

"No," Essek said desperately, wrapping his arms around Caleb's neck. "I'm open, and I want you so badly. Please, let me have you. I need to feel you inside of me, now."

“Are you thinking clearly?” Caleb asked suspiciously. 

“I could list every component in my bag in alphabetical order if it would make you feel better,” Essek offered, kissing Caleb’s neck--sucking and biting at the places that were open for him. He opened Caleb’s shirt, sighing at the feeling of them skin-to-skin. Finally, he thought as Caleb sighed into his embrace. “I just need you, Caleb.”  

 "Desperate," Caleb chuckled, and Essek raked his nails across skin, yanking at his pants to get them loose. 

"Yes," Essek admitted, finally getting his hands on Caleb. He moaned as he did. Caleb's cock was hot and pulsing against his fingers. He liberally coated him with the oil still wet on his fingers. "Oh Gods, get that in me."

"Surely I am nothing compared to what you have had before?" Caleb said, mouth kissing and sucking. "A beauty like you, you must have tasted pleasure greater than what I can give you." 

"No, no, I…" Essek gasped before spreading his legs. Caleb's hands were hot on the back his thighs. He felt Caleb press into him, the sensation so overwhelming that he nearly was thrown over the edge again. He would never forgive Nott for this. He was going to die. Caleb was going to kill him with his cock and Essek didn't care. "I haven't!" 

"No?" Caleb grunted as he sank in, Essek scrabbled at him trying to touch him. He needed to feel Caleb's weight as he reached so deep. Caleb caught his hand and pressed a languid kiss to Essek's palm. And Essek couldn't explain then, not when Caleb had him speared on his magnificent cock. Not when his brain was on fire from the arousal and the remnants of the magic coursing in his veins. Essek couldn’t explain that nothing in his life had ever felt like this. The Essek he knew was just a simple observer, distant and solitary like a star. His other brief, loveless relationships--his flippant couplings, nothing had touched his heart. But now he was rupturing. Caleb and his friends had broken through the walls of his heart--had passed through them like ghosts and now Essek couldn’t get enough. 

But Caleb didn't move. Essek attempted to buck his hips back--to get friction, relief, something! But it was no use. 

"Move!" Essek snarled and in his desperation for Caleb he had become transformed into a feral creature. His voice was almost unrecognizable in his own ears. 

"Of course," Caleb said, his voice warm and halting. It broke goosebumps out all across Essek’s skin as he held him down with ease. "But tell me--hn, you didn't answer my question." 

"Anything, anything! Just move, Caleb!”

"When others have had you, tell me, did you plead so prettily?" Caleb's asked before slowly his hips forward, and the drag of it, the overwhelming sensation made him breathless. Essek curled his legs around Caleb's hips to keep him from escaping. "Perhaps, ugh! Perhaps the potion, has no effect. Maybe you have always been so needy." 

"It just feels so good," Essek moaned as Caleb angled his hips and hit the place inside him that had him splintering with pleasure. "More! Don’t stop!" 

“Of course, anything for you,” Caleb gasped as he caught Essek’s mouth with his own, licking into it, and Essek tasted Caleb thoroughly. His fingers twisted in his hair, scratching at his back, as he tried to pull Caleb against him harder. He needed more, he needed all of Caleb. Essek needed Caleb to touch more of him, to touch him deeper, further, and harder than anyone else had ever dared to.  He wanted to crack open so that he could feel more. It was filling him up, like pressure--like the light of a full moon. And how could he contain that inside his body? 

“Please,” Essek begged, gripping Caleb because he would fall apart without him. Essek felt Caleb pulsing inside of him, and threw his head back with reckless abandon, baring his neck and everything inside of him. “Please, Caleb!” 

“Fuck!” Caleb groaned, “I’m close!” 

Essek’s hips were moving without his permission--and he was so close too. He was balanced on the edge of a knife and he couldn’t take it anymore. His second orgasm crashed through him, ripping a bestial keening noise out of his throat. Essek distantly felt Caleb’s hips snap harshly into his, felt the sticky warmth spread deep inside of him. Caleb rocked them through the aftershocks of their explosive lovemaking, before collapsing off of him. 

“Oh Gods,” Essek gasped as he finally managed to catch his breath, his chest heaving with the effort. 

“Are you alright?” Caleb asked, concerned, half-sitting up. Essek immediately caught him and pulled him down into another kiss. This time, it was deep and longing and felt like a breath of cool air. 

“If you consider recovering from the best sex of my life alright, then I suppose so,” Essek said, unable to help his cringe at the soreness of his hips as he tried to sit up. Almost immediately he felt thrumming of arousal rise once more. Caleb noticed it too, because almost immediately his thick calloused fingers curled around him and pumped. “Oh Gods above and below…my hips are going to break.” 

“Lay back down,” Caleb bid him. Caleb’s expression was tender as Essek traced the darkening marks upon his shoulder and neck. He then traced his mouth, catching on Essek’s nipple, eyes dark and longing as he continued to move down the length of his body. He tasted of Essek like he was starving, and only he could sate him. Essek wondered if maybe he had gotten a dose of the potion too, or if he was always like this. They had slept together before, and it hadn’t been like this. But were all humans so secretly and ravenously insatiable? “Rest...I’ll take care of the rest this time.” 

Essek was helpless but to agree. 

Essek tried to make his exit out of the Xhorhaus as quiet as possible the next morning after about three more rounds of mind-blowing sex and the deepest trance he had ever had in his whole life. Half of the reason for his sneakiness was so that he wouldn’t disturb anyone, but the other half was in order to preserve what little dignity he had left. However, seeing the other members sitting in the living room made Essek feel the kind of fear he had only ever experienced when the Bright Queen was displeased with him. Essek nearly turned around and went to go find a window to escape out of when Jester shot up. 

“Are you alright?” Jester asked. “I mean it sounded like you were better than alright but I’ve rested and can use a spell--” 

“Please,” Essek bid her. Thankful to all of the powers in the universe that the high collar of his mantle hid how...well...marked up he really and truly was. The last round had particularly punishing in that regard.  “Let’s...never speak of this ever again.” 

“So no head?” Beau piped up from the back. 

“I will eviscerate you,” Essek warned, the dull ache in his hips overriding all of his well-established niceties. “Don’t make me consider it.” 

“Are you gonna stay for breakfast?” Caduceus asked good-naturedly. 

Essek was about to answer that though he appreciated the offer, he would be able to find breakfast on his own at home where he could recover from his all night ordeal. And he was about to open his mouth to speak those words into existence when there was a distant thud and a swearing in Zemnian from down the hall. Nott gave Essek a thumb’s up, pat his arm, before disappearing down the hall to go investigate. 

“So...does someone need to go heal Caleb?” Yasha asked softly. Fjord sank down in his seat, looking mortified as Jester hid giggles into her hand. Beau began to whistle. 

Essek immediately pressed his hands to his face and tried not to scream.  

[alloveroliver]

Sebastian ✶ MC “A Pinnacle Moment.”

Rating: Fluff

WC: 4,212

Summary: Little moments begin to add up as you and Sebastian grow closer. Working together proves to be the highlight of your day. But, it made for lonely evenings without him by your side. Swallowing your nerve, you muster the courage to see if you can get him to spend more time with you. Outside of work seemed like the perfect time to try to express what Sebastian truly means to you. However, Sebastian has some words to share first. 

Ikemen Vampire Fanfic

      The third time Sebastian ‘accidentally’ brushed your hand, he apologized wryly. His demeanor was astute, keeping his shoulders square and his head held high like a string was pulling it. You’d grown so close to him you could see the crackle of mischievousness in his gray eyes. A hint of a smile tugged at his lips every time he bumped into you.

“Maybe if you didn’t sit so close you wouldn’t have to apologize all the time.” You tried to sound stern. It was hard not to smile at your own jest, especially when his head snapped so fast toward you. He studied your face, worried for a moment you were serious. That’s when you couldn’t hold your smile in anymore. Looking away, you covered your mouth with your hand in hopes to keep the charade up.

“Ah,” His buttery voice rang through the small space. Silverware clinked against each other. You placed a freshly polished utensil down and plucked up another tarnished one. “Then, I have failed as a gentleman.”

All was quiet as he settled his eyes on you sitting in a chair beside him. You’d stopped polishing, staring at your reflection in the serving spoon while he spoke.

“I suppose you have.” You added, plucking another spoon from the bin.

“It’ll never happen again, I can assure you.”

“Thank you- OH!” Your appreciation was cut short when he reached over your working hands to grab a fork off the pile.

“My apologies, this fork doesn’t seem to be well polished in the slightest.”

“Sebastian!” You let out a laugh and pushed on his arm playfully.

His smile made his eyes sparkle like the stars in the night sky. It was beautiful to see such an expression on his face. Eyes framed with a hint of crinkling, and hidden dimples that only appeared after considerable coaxing.

The evening chores were far more enjoyable with Sebastian by your side. He always helped with every task, making each one go by twice as fast. This seemed to be his absolute favorite thing, working together with you. It was rare he would do one task, and you’d do another. That was only when it made sense for time restriction reasons.

Later, as you stood in front of the sink, Sebastian stood a hair’s breadth away next to you. You rinsed the gold etched plate and handed it to him to dry. Sebastian used a similar technique on each flat surface to dry it. This made the process more efficient. He placed the plate slowly into the wire rack and sighed.

“How rude of the clouds,” He breathed.

“Hm?” You handed him the last plate of the evening and unplugged the stopper from the sink.

“They are covering the sky, hiding the moon and stars.” He dried the plate quickly and slid it delicately onto the rack.

“Ah yes, I do suppose it is very rude of them.” You both looked out the window that hung above the kitchen sink and stared through the glass. “Without so much light pollution, the stars are much brighter here.”

“Is that so?” He kept his eyes forward, slowly squeezing his fingers against his palm.

Neither of you moved from your spots. Your feet were stuck like glue, knowing once you parted it was time for bed and time to say goodbye to Sebastian.

“Yes, in fact, they even twinkle. That’s something I thought I saw in modern times but nothing like this. I never knew how much the sky actually looked like glitter.”

The silence was palpable. Sebastian cleared his throat as if he had something to say. You rubbed your hand on the back of your neck, wishing you could blurt out your feelings. Nights were lonely without him, dull.

“I... there’s something-” He began to speak. Sebastian’s face grew a shade darker while his chest began to rise and fall heavily.

It was like this every night. He was worried about your happiness and what you wanted to do more than his own needs. You felt that was why he’d never invited you to spend time with him outside of work.

“Yes? What is it, Sebastian?” Your voice was quiet as you tried to lace gentleness and understanding in your words.

“Is there something else that needs to be done?” He blurted out, standing up straighter as he turned towards you.

You sighed, feeling dejected at his proposal for more labor. However, this seemed to be the only thing he was capable of asking of you despite wanting more.

“Well, there is one thing.” You press your lips together.

“Anything.” The word sounded almost frantic.

“It’s not for work but…” You shuffled your feet, willing bravery to win the battle against your bashfulness. “Would you like to join me in the library tonight?

His brows shot up over his forehead. There was a moment you’d thought he’d say ‘no’ when he looked over at the kitchen doors. Sebastian sat down the drying rag and nodded his head.

“Yes, I think I might.”

“Brilliant! I will go change into something comfortable, that isn’t covered in soapy suds, and meet you there in a few minutes.” Your smile stretched across your features.

“Yes, I will change also.”

Rejection sat near the edge of your heart, looming like an inevitable demon, but acceptance took its rightful place. It was exciting but brought about far different anxieties than the former.

It took everything inside of you to hold back a happy dance as you walked out of the room ahead of him. You practically strolled at a snail’s pace to keep yourself from running enthusiastically to your room. You didn’t want anyone to stop and ask why you were so excited, nor what your plans for the evening were.

Once dressed and primped with a new hair bow holding up a half updo and fresh mascara, you stalked off to the library with a finished book in tow. Your nerves frazzled the closer you got to the door. Even pushing on the massive wooden barrier, your heart fluttered in your chest.

The door creaked, and you looked around anxiously. The lamps were dim, and the room was void of any entity. Sebastian hadn’t made it yet, but that was okay. It didn’t mean he had changed his mind, right?

You walked toward the shelf where you borrowed the old book and replaced it carefully. Dust covered the spines of some more classic books while others were crisp and new. As you read the back page description of an old fairy tale book, the door to the library groaned. The sound made your heart rate jump before you even went to look at who it was.

From the balcony on the second floor, you watched him look around the space earnestly.

“I’m up here, Sebastian.” You waved, smiling wide at his promptness.

“Ah, there you are.” He beamed that tender smile, the one that was hard for you to tear your eyes away from.

You could hardly believe he’d shown up. Outside of work, you didn’t see much of him, and you always wondered what he did for fun. He wore more casual clothes, no gloves, and no tie. Sebastian walked up to the curving staircase with his eyes locked to yours. You didn’t realize you were staring until he made it to the top of the steps and let out a chuckle.

“Is there something on my face?” Sebastian teased.

“No!” You turned on your heel and laughed. “Nothing, I’m sorry for staring.”

You tried, and failed, to placed the book back on the shelf. Warmth that surrounded you from behind made your hands shake too much for it to fit. It was familiar, something you were used to feeling during the day. It heated you from the inside, feeling like home and acceptance. It awoke emotions inside you, like rousing from winters hibernation to flourish in the new warmer season.   

Sebastian’s voice was low as he reached his arm around your body and plucked the book from your hand. “Let me help with that.”

He had such a soothing voice, unique with a lilt of an accent unique to only him in this house. You closed your eyes and breathed slowly, letting him have the book from your trembling hands. He didn’t touch you but protectively kept his proximity close to your smaller body.

“Sa-” You bit your lip, keeping your words at bay. If you spoke now, it would be nothing but a desperate plea for him to draw nearer. Your cheeks deepened in color as you pretended to read the spines of the books in front of you.

Sebastian remained quiet, breathing evenly behind you.

“You’re always helping everyone else.” You managed after a long pause.

“It’s my job, and I’m happy to do it.”

“It’s not your job right now. You can relax and just be yourself.” You turned your head to catch his eye.

“I am being myself.” He assured. “Do you think how I act during the day is a ruse?”

“Well, no.” You summoned the courage to turn around and look up at him. It took everything in you not to reach out for him to bring him closer. It’s what you secretly craved, to be nearer to him always.

“You’ve met the real me. I’m sorry for any disappointment this may bring.” His eyes sparkled, smiling gently in the dim room that was filled with the scent of old novels. He joked as he always did, a hint of self-depreciation mixed with a tease that sent a jab at you.

You smile, showing him your teeth. “I can safely say I am not disappointed. I like you just the way you are.” You gulped after that last statement and stood still.

Was that too much? Did he know how much you cared for him? You weren’t sure if he was ready for you to express your feelings to him. You weren’t ready for a brushoff. And, seeing that he was your boss, it would be awkward to work alongside him after a rejection.

You shook your head out of your abysmal thoughts. Of course, this was the dark cloud of anxiety talking. Sebastian could never be rude to you, even if he didn’t feel the same way you did. He was kind and thoughtful. His rejection of your love might even sound like a positive thing coming out of his mouth.

He stepped back and took a seat on the two-person couch nearby. “I was surprised you invited me here.”

Regaining your composure, you turned to pull a new book off the shelf and moved to join him. “Sorry to catch you off guard.”

“It’s no trouble. So what would you like to do together?” Sebastian folded his hands in his lap and waited patiently for your answer.

Your eyes met, and a spark of electricity passed between the two of you. You wish you could speed things up and jump into Sebastian's arms at once. Skip the dating part and go straight into being together forever. It was crazy how strongly you felt for him in such a short time. But, you knew that love that was out of balance could collapse easier than one that had structure. 

Sebastian would have to feel the same way. It was highly unlikely that he felt even a fraction of love you felt for him. Your love for him was like a colossal mountain compared to the pebble of love you’d ever felt for anyone else.

“I figured, if you enjoyed reading, we could read together before bed.” You felt like crying, but you didn’t know why. The relief of him wanting to spend any extra moments with you gave you so much hope for what the future could bring.

“I do enjoy reading quite a lot, actually.”

“That’s great! This idea was perfect then!” You laughed excitedly. “I like to read before bed; it makes me tired and puts my mind at ease. I have my best nights of rest after reading a few chapters of a good book.”

“Is that so? I haven't tried reading before bed yet." 

"What do you normally do?"

Sebastian pursed his lips. "I drink hot tea and try to take a warm bath to relax my muscles."

You furrowed your brows. "Are you having trouble sleeping?"

"I have had some trouble sleeping as of late...” Sebastian looked down crestfallen.

You savored the moment of him opening up to you but scrambled for something to say before the moment could pass.

“You have?!” You sounded too excited. Sebastian looked up at you with bemusement and confusion in his eyes. You cleared your throat and tried again. “What has been making you have trouble sleeping? How long has this been going on for?”

Maybe it was the nerves starting to fluster you, but you tried your best to calm yourself. The sofa cushion was springy, and if you shook anymore, you might bounce off the couch.

“I would say since your arrival. Now, I don’t attribute it to you, but there has to be some sort of connection.”

You listened intently, leaning toward him to allow him to go on.

Sebastian took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his graphite hair. “I have a lot on my mind, I suppose.”

“What kinds of things are on your mind?”

“To be honest, your safety is one of them. Another would be how everyone is handling your addition. And, oh-” Sebastian paused and looked down at his hands. “Some other things as well… Um,” He looked around the room for a clue. “Like, wondering if I did all my work. You’ve helped me so much we finish early, and I’ve had so much fun it doesn’t feel like a job.”

“You say you don’t attribute it to me, but everything you’ve said has to do with me.”

He didn’t answer, making the silence speak for itself. He’d seemed to have come to the same conclusion while he was talking too.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to express myself. I wasn’t trying to put any blame on you.”

“Oh, hush. You keep apologizing for things you don’t need to apologize for. I understand what you mean, and I know your sleeplessness can’t be helped. You don’t blame me because you know it's out of my control.” You felt breathless trying to defend the very man that put himself down.

“You are very spirited tonight.” He smirked. “And all this is true.”

You wanted to use this subject to learn more about him. He’d already relinquished that he cared to think of you when you were away, There had to be a way to tell him you care for him too. “I have trouble sleeping too sometimes with things on my mind.”

“Is that so? And why are you becoming sleepless.”

You blew out a quick breath and spoke. “I, hmm...” It proved difficult to speak.

“Yes?” He leaned toward you. "You can tell me anything, I'll listen."

Telling him you thought of him every night might be too much for him. What if he only wanted to be friends and yet here you are, telling him he’s the only one you think about? There was a ledge in front of you, a choice. The only things left to do were to jump and hope Sebastian was below to catch you. Or, you could back away and never know what was waiting at the bottom.

“I think of you too. Well, I worry about you! After all this time spent here, it’s hard not to. I see you every day, working with you. I even started seeing you in my dreams.” You let out a soft laugh knowing you were babbling on for far too long. “Isn’t that silly?”

Sebastian blinked a few times, sitting quietly next to you. A few heartbeats passed before his lips quirked up in a smile. He took in a shaky inhale and adjusted his position to angle toward you.

“I don’t find it silly. It’s quite reasonable.” He reassured, letting out a long breath.

You quickly realized just how much he was trying to remain calm. You knew your friend well. You’d seen him in many situations where he had to deescalate and take control over the matter at hand. He was even starting to blink faster and stopped himself from biting his lip.

“Okay good.” Your voice was small. You hoped he didn’t hear the mountain of other things you wished to express to him behind your tone. For the moment, telling him you thought of him often was enough.

He smiled and closed his eyes. “You know, I had a dream about you the other night.”

Both of you sat near one another but didn’t touch like you were used to. Sebastian’s knee or forearm was usually pressed to you when you sat close. Tonight he kept a small amount of distance from you. You wouldn’t have noticed except you were missing his warmth, and you were anxious about how the evening was going to unfold. You wanted him closer, but Sebastian seemed to be keeping a gentleman's wall up between you two.

“Is that right?” You smiled, pushing your hair behind your ear. “I hope I wasn’t a handful.”

“You are always a handful.” He teased, leaning back in the chair. “Actually, you were running down the hallway wearing a red flowing dress, no shoes” He tossed you a pointed look.

“Was I running from something?”

“It felt like,” he pursed his lips and looked down at where his ankles crossed. “It seemed as if you were running from me.” Sebastian seemed at odds with this information.

“I don’t think I could ever run from you. I’m not scared of you.”

“I think it may be an internal fear that you’d rather be with-" he cleared his throat. “Be around someone more interesting, like” He cut his eyes to you and lowered his voice. “Well, like one of the many vampires that roam these halls. The famous men, the genius’ and the brilliant renaissance artists.”

“They are interesting.” You spoke calmly, your words only loud enough to pass to him in the vast library. “But I like learning about the real them from you.”

“Oh?” He sat up straighter and leaned his head to the side to listen.

“Your take on them is unique, and what you witness is oddly ordinary yet somehow intriguing. I like to learn from you and hear all the smaller things that history overlooked. You see more than anyone really knows, and that is extremely interesting to me.”

After your chat, it didn’t take long for Sebastian to find a book and relax into the couch beside you. The quiet ticking of the clock was the soundtrack to an evening spent in comfortable silence. Sebastian moved closer to you on the cushion, and you relaxed your leg against his. It was a small gesture but made you feel miles more comfortable than when he was keeping his distance. 

You yawned, blinking your blurry eyes at the words on the page. They ran together like a mirage for a moment before clearing up again. You were so lost in the world of fiction the loud snap of the book next to you made you jump.

Sebastian closed his book with a smirk and shook your shoulder playfully. “You aren’t going to fall asleep here, are you?” His eyes closed with his wide smile.

“No!” You stifled a yawn and giggled. “No, of course not.”

“Maybe it’s time I walk you back to your room.” Sebastian stood and placed the book he was reading on the nearby rack.

“Sounds good.” You held the book close to you, wanting to check it out to finish the story on your own time.

Sebastian held out his hand and helped you off the warm couch.

“Shall we?” He offered his arm graciously.

“Of course!” Your smile was so big it hurt your cheeks to keep it plastered on your face.

His arm was warm as he guided you through the halls. He didn’t squeeze you to him but remained close.

“I’m glad you joined me for the evening.” You began to speak the closer you two go to your door. Collectively your feet began to drag, and Sebastian slowed down to match your pace.

“It was delightful. I was able to relax and do something fun for a short time. It helped calm me.”

“I didn’t know you were stressed.” You spoke regretfully.

“It’s a good stress. Nothing I can’t handle. I enjoy helping everyone, but it does become quite a lot over time.” Sebastian placed his free hand on the back of his head and rubbed his neck.

“I can see that. Since I’ve been helping you, I have also experienced a similar feeling.”

“I don’t know what it is, but your smile soothes me.” He stopped in front of your door and grinned down at you.

Dropping the book you borrowed in front of the door, you turned and beamed a smile up at him. “Glad to be of assistance.” You joked, bringing your hand up to play with a piece of hair.

Sebastian smile faded, and he stood up taller. “Well, this is you.” He gestured to the door.

“Yeah…” You chewed the inside of your cheek, hoping for an excuse to extend the night for just a few more moments.

“I-”

“I-”

You both spoke at the same time, then stopped. Sebastian laughed first. “You go ahead.”

“Oh! No, you.”

His laugh settled down, and he scratched his head. “I just wanted to say thank you for being a friend to me since you arrived. It’s been the most enjoyable.”

“I could say the same to you. You took me under your wing and showed me the ropes. I owe you a lot, Sebastian.”

“You don’t owe me anything. You’ve given me a lot. So... we can call it even.”

There was a pause. You unhooked your arm from his and moved toward the door. Your hand hovered on the knob, not twisting it just yet.

“I’m glad to hear that.” You whispered, just low enough to make him take a step forward to hear.

Sebastian’s warm hand rested on your shoulder, and you turned to look at him. His smile was contagious as he drew near. His fervent lips met your forehead. You stood there in stunned silence as the warm kiss filled your heart with delight.

He didn’t move away as he whispered against your temple. “You being here means more to me than you know. You’re special to me, and I cherish every single moment we have together.”

“Sebas-”

He moved away and straightened his jacket. With a concluding nod, he placed on a friendly smile. “Goodnight, mademoiselle.”

You watched him turn on his heel, slowly leaving you at your door with a loss for words and doe eyes.

“Wait!” You called after him.

It was now or never. You needed to take that leap now or you wouldn't find your nerve again for quite some time.

It took a few long strides before you made it to him. Sebastian turned, revealing the blush that settled around his cheeks. It was his turn to look surprised as you approached him.

“I feel the same way!” Your voice caught in your throat.

“You do?”

“Yes! I do!” You wrapped your arms around his neck and prayed that your knees wouldn’t give out.

Your noses brushed in the proximity. Sebastian's hand gently settled on your lower back while his smokey eyes searched your face. You pushed up on your toes and let your lips narrowly brush his.

“I care about you a lot.” You whispered.

Sebastian sighed and pulled you up closer to him. He crashed his lips into yours, capturing you in a fierce kiss that rivaled the former. Slanting his mouth against yours, he pushed you to walk back against the hallway wall.

His lips parted, making yours follow suit. Sebastian brought his tongue to the seam of your mouth and slowly slipped past them. The kiss seared passionately as you poured your heart out to one another wordlessly.

Sebastian took his time with the kiss. He nipped at your bottom lip, and kissed the corners of your mouth. He cupped the back of your head with his hand to keep you close. It was easy to lose yourself in his touch. Your hands began to play with the ends of his hair, scratching lightly against his scalp.

The kiss didn’t end quickly. He kept you gently pressed against the dim hallway wall for a long while. You could feel it, the changing tides, and you knew nothing would be the same after this.

Tomorrow wouldn’t be awkward, no, it would be fun. Funner than just any ol’ workday. Sebastian would steal a kiss when no one was looking, pull you into the empty pantry and hide from any onlookers. You’d feel like you were a teenager again, heart racing and smiles flashing. Nothing felt more right at this moment. And you knew the future would be amazing with Sebastian by your side.

.

.

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A|N: I haven't written fluff in a while, but I felt the urge! Sebastian has become my muse~ I hope you enjoyed the read!

Masterlist is at the top of my blog~